


Long Way Down

by Castalle



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:08:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castalle/pseuds/Castalle
Summary: Post-Infinity War.  Toomes escapes prison in the chaos caused after Infinity War and tries to find his way back to his wife and daughter, but ends up forced to cooperate with Mac Gargan's own plans to form a new team.





	1. Chapter 1

Toomes figures he’s stroking out. He must be stroking out. His cellmate just turned to dust in the middle of his morning piss.

It isn’t long after he pinches himself a few times that the shouts and screams of genuine terror begin to fill the prison beyond his door. 

Well, on the bright side, he’s not stroking out.

On the other hand, what the _fuck_ is going on.

~

By the time the prisoners have overcome the guards and an all-out riot is taking place, a knot the size of Texas has formed in the bottom of Toomes’ stomach. _What about Liz? What about Doris?_ He even briefly thinks of Mason and Schultz. 

His fear only worsens when he reaches one of the abandoned guard stations where a television is displaying a news reporter as white as a sheet. As the man struggles to read out from the teleprompter Toomes begins to realize that something has gone very, very wrong.

Screams of pain and rage from just outside the guard station bring him back to the moment. He has to get out of there, he has to find a way to Liz and make sure his baby is safe. With all the ensuing chaos, it shouldn’t be too hard to get back to the mainland. At least, that’s what he has to tell himself right now. He can’t allow himself to get distracted by all the _what ifs_ floating around about just how many different ways this could go wrong.

~

The surviving guards from the massive riot are struggling to get the ferry working and get back to Long Island. Toomes knows he’s only going to get one chance at this, and the window of opportunity to sneak onto that boat is rapidly narrowing. Huddled behind a lockbox full of life vests on the prison ferry docks, he wishes these panicking guards attempting to escape a deadly prison riot would have their shit a little less together so he could sneak on easier.

With no gun and no flight harness, he knows that all he’s got on his side is a good left hook. Still, it’s his baby girl on the line – the tug of his instincts as a parent are just too loud to ignore. Not that he’d even try to ignore them in the first place. He hopes Doris is there too – but Liz is priority. He knows too that Doris wouldn’t blame him for thinking that way. If she were forced to choose between Liz or Adrian, of course she’d choose Liz, and Adrian would be all the more grateful to her for it.

A hand slaps down on his shoulder, snapping him out of his concentration. He turns elbow shooting up on reflex and catching Gargan square in the nose. Toomes hears a crunch and Gargan snarls in pain, covering his face for a moment before shaking it off.

“Simmer down, Toomes.” Gargan hisses quietly, rubbing his nose. “Remember how I said I got friends on the outside?”

Adrian squints at him, and it’s not just the dim light of the darkening skies. He doesn’t trust Gargan as far as he could throw him. It’s just his luck too that out of all the prisoners to survive whatever the hell just happened, one of them is this guy. Toomes gave plenty of guys second chances in his salvage company. Guys who, by all rights, didn’t deserve another chance. He gave it to them anyway. 

Still, something about Gargan made his skin crawl. In a way that he’d never really experienced before. He’d experienced anger, jealousy, rage – sure. Lots of things like that. They were simple emotions and he considered himself a pretty simple guy, so there wasn’t a lot to get mixed up. This feeling on the other hand, it was something far more visceral. A primal fear in the back of his mind that was telling him to get as far from Mac Gargan as he possibly could. Still...he trusted at least that Gargan wasn’t the type to just downright lie about knowing people on the outside who could help him. He’d be surprised if Gargan hadn’t been swimming in criminal cohorts.

It was either deal with Gargan for a little while until he could get to the mainland, or deal with a ferry full of terrified prison guards that was warming up its engines.

“...Yeah I remember. What about it?” He put on a face that, he hoped, would make him look unimpressed.

Gargan didn’t seem to care either way, pulling him up to stand. “We’re bustin’ outta here. Come on man, just you, me, and a few of my buddies. I got us a boat already on the way.”

Who the hell was this guy connected to? Adrian wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know.

Toomes considered himself, if nothing else, fit for someone in their mid 60’s. He’d always been an active guy, almost purely out of his various construction jobs throughout the decades. That old strength he carried with him however was nothing compared to the heavy, broad strength that a man like Mac Gargan had. 

Gargan squeezed his shoulder and all but dragged him away from the docks. Toomes eyed a shank, covered in blood, in the man’s other hand. He sighed silently, allowing Gargan to drag him back toward the prison. When it came to fight or flight – Adrian was prone to flight. It wasn’t that he was afraid of a fight, but it was best to often bide one’s time and take the correct opportunity to strike.

Right now was one of those pivotal moments. It didn’t fit conveniently into fight or flight. Rather for now it was fight or follow. Fight Gargan and try to get back to the ferry. Most likely die. Follow Gargan and only maybe die.

Follow it was then.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t take long for Adrian to determine three very simple things.

One. 

Waffle House was _awful_ and all those times a very young Liz had screamed in the car at being denied Waffle House visits was entirely worth the ear splitting shrieks. 

Two. 

The sound of four fellow escaped convicts all eating, most of them with their mouths open for whatever god forsaken reason, ranked second in _‘Most annoying things Adrian Toomes has had to listen to.’_

They got the spot right behind Mason giving him a three hour long lecture on _No, boss, you seriously just need to look at the data, chemtrails are a reality and we’re all living it_. 

Three. The only reason Gargan had helped him get out of prison was to lead them to one of his old safe houses. 

The safe ‘house’ was more of a safe ‘warehouse’ that was one of many abandoned facilities his crew had used as drop off points, stake out locations, or arms testing sites. A side effect of a giant alien attack on New York City was somewhat of an exodus from around the state of those who could afford to leave. The city itself never ceased to draw people to it, despite the events that had transpired there. That still didn’t stop smaller cities in other regions from suffering from a bit of migration over the years. Enough to create a domino effect that left more than a few smaller towns without the economies to sustain themselves.

Hence, Toomes had never been out of abandoned or derelict buildings to hide in during his years of the back and forth. 

Whether Gargan knew that from just being smart enough to suss it out from how Toomes’ operation had worked, or whether he was just guessing, Adrian couldn’t tell. It didn’t really matter at this point because he was basically being press ganged into helping Gargan and his squad out. A squad that seemed suspiciously (aside from their table manners) _professional_.

That set Adrian at unease. Gargan was a loose screw, that much was certain. He was also extremely good at putting on an air of casual friendliness and making himself seem like just a good ol’ boy on a road trip with his buddies. Just a couple of guys cruising upstate New York in the middle of an earth-shattering disaster that had plunged the world into utter confusion and chaos. 

Two said buddies were uncomfortably muscular, so much that Adrian had to try and distract himself so he wouldn’t stare. He’d caught the name Sergei directed towards the one with black hair. The bald one next to Adrian was Aleksei.

Aleksei wasn’t half bad. He chewed with his mouth shut, so Toomes had to give him points for that. Seriously, was this a prison thing or had he just been sheltered from loud eaters his entire life? He’d also offered Adrian a cigarette back at their last gas station stop. Toomes didn’t smoke, but it was the most he’d interacted with any of them, aside from Gargan.

Adrian prodded the “cheese” and “eggs” that were on his plate with a sigh of distaste. Doris had always been particular about food, and when they’d gotten married she’d passed it on to him. There was no doubt in his mind that her demands for a healthy lifestyle for the both of them was why he was in the shape he was today. 

“What’s wrong?” Gargan grunted from the other end of the booth. He was neck deep in what must’ve been six waffles, stacked one on top of the other. 

Damn those young people and their metabolisms.

Toomes shook his head, nudging the plate away. “Not hungry.” He said with a sniff, implying his distaste for the entire establishment. Any opportunity to make Gargan acutely aware of his displeasure without the threat of violence, he would take.

“Well eat up anyway. Ain’t no other place to stop until we get to the next town.” Gargan muttered, turning his attention back to his food. 

“There is grocery-” Aleksei began, but Gargan grunted, silencing him.

“It’s being looted as we speak.” Sergei muttered apathetically, more invested in staring at the television mounted on the wall nearby. 

The small screen was displaying a sad attempt at a news station to try and cover the chaos and confusion that was following the ‘event’. So far no one had come up with a catchy term for ‘half of everyone I knew just turned into dust’. 

Toomes glanced outside at the narrow road that divided the tiny, upstate town. The businesses had been abandoned, to no surprise. What few people _were_ on the streets were those who weren’t going to let a mild apocalypse get in their way of a new television set. Adrian had to admire that opportunistic mindset.

Of course, as much as he maligned Waffle House’s abysmal excuse for eggs and cheese, he also had to give them credit for even being open. No doubt a few newly-ashed staff members were being carried by a strong breeze up to Canada. Happy trails.

Adrian shrugged, standing, and shoving his plate of what some would call ‘food’ towards Aleksei.

“I’ll take my chances with the grocery.” He muttered, pulling on his jacket. 

Gargan had insisted on stopping by the evidence locker before they made their escape several days prior. He’d found enough cocaine to fund a small army. Adrian had found his jacket. Toomes considered himself the clear winner in this case. 

“Be back at the car in twenty minutes or we’re leaving without you.” Gargan muttered with a face-full of waffle.

Toomes smirked, eyebrows twitching as he pulled the shearling collar closer around his neck. “No you won’t.” 

The look Gargan gave him told Toomes he was right on the mark. They _could_ leave him there, and Toomes would be all the more grateful for it. He’d gladly take his chances in the chaotic storm of a country in the throes of confusion and loss. Unfortunately Gargan needed a solid venue to crash at, and to keep all of his uncomfortably muscular Russian friends in. Probably use said venue to plan future criminal endeavors and exploit the chaos for his personal gain.

Toomes had the feeling too, that once he lead Gargan to one of the abandoned safe houses, that the man was just going to demand more of him. 

Adrian walked out of the Waffle House, grimacing at the glare of the sun. Things could’ve been worse, of course. It could’ve been raining, or storming, or gray and miserable out. But Adrian could see the wide blue sky, feel the wind on his face, hear birds call to each other over the deafening silence of a town whose citizens were just as lost as the rest of the world. 

Over the weight of the silence, there was an incredible feeling of utter dread. The level of unspeakable terror that had happened in just moments was by all rights so horrific that Adrian was pretty sure he was still in a state of shock.

Planes, helicopters, cars, subways, motorcycles, and trains. More than a few had become traveling death traps, those remaining inside of them left only to panic and die in a helpless, unthinkable scenario.

Focusing on Liz and Doris helped him keep his head on straight – at least for now. _You can’t lose it until you have a reason to fucking lose it._ That was his argument. He had told himself he had to keep his shit together until he was absolutely certain that something cataclysmic had happened to his family. 

They could still be alive. Doris could still be alive. Liz could still be alive. The only way he was going to get to them was by keeping a cool head and not doing the alternative and finding a nice, warm corner to have an emotional breakdown in. There were some nice corners around here too, and he had half a mind to just find one and hunker down and stay there until Gargan came looking for him. Just to spite the bastard.

He shook the feeling off – or rather, buried it deep down enough to suffocate for a little while. It would well back up, and that sick, awful feeling would creep back into his body. That sick feeling that _what if his baby was in the car with Doris and Doris was just a pile of ashes and all Liz could do was scream when the suddenly driverless car swerved into oncoming traffic._

“Don’t do that.” He told himself quietly as he crossed the street. Sometimes he just had to say it out loud. “Don’t freak yourself out.”

He buried that feeling a little deeper. There was a Whole Foods to loot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal apology to Waffle Houses everywhere. I have actually never been to one.


	3. Chapter 3

The safehouse is an old, underground storage facility that had been intended for long-term cold storage.

Whatever people needed to store in the cold for the long-term wasn’t something Adrian really cared to know about. His first guess would’ve been bodies. On the bright side, considering how people were conveniently turned to dust instead of dropping dead, no one was going to be using this warehouse anytime soon.

Gargan and his men had set up their living spaces as far apart from each other as possible. Toomes set his space up in a room on the opposite end of the warehouse. Gargan hasn’t explicitly said he has to stay, _yet._

Toomes is sure it’s coming. They would’ve killed him by now if all they really needed was to be lead to a safe house. Whatever Gargan wants him for, he’s pretty sure it has something to do with his history. Something told him Mac Gargan wasn’t keeping him around for his accounting skills.

Still – who the hell were these guys? Two uncomfortably muscular Russians and a chubby guy that was too quiet for his own good. Adrian didn’t recognize the third man, but he’d been able to hot wire an ATM in under five minutes. Not that cash had done them much good. The utter chaos that was still gripping the country had pretty much negated the need for normal societal necessities like paying for things.

Adrian had to admit, just downright stealing stuff instead of stealing some stuff to buy other stuff was a lot less complicated. Upstate New York was a popular spot for hiking, and had an abundance of sporting goods stores to loot along their little ride. He’d made a nice little nest for himself within the stolen camping tent. It was sized for three people, but Adrian was a man who liked his space and privacy. Sing Sing had been a hell on earth, but one that, thankfully, was quickly fading in his mind.

Gargan approached him after a few days of settling in, the familiar and unsettling smirk resting across his face.

“I got a few guys taking stock of the D.O.D.C. vault right now. They’re gonna be heading up this way with a few trucks of goods. I need you to start rebuilding that fancy wing rig of yours as soon as they get here. We’re gonna need it-”

“Hold on, hold on.” Adrian had to laugh despite Gargan’s clear displeasure at being interrupted. “Listen, Mason built my wing rigs. He was the genius behind it, alright? I just knew how to f-”

Adrian hadn’t been in prison _that_ long to get rusty, so he’ll just blame it on his age. 

Gargan has a hand around his throat and is shoving him back against the concrete wall before he can even react. His head slams back on the cement twice – then three times, and then he’s seeing stars and the room Is probably upside down.

“I’m done taking your fucking attitude!” Gargan snarls. Adrian winces as the man shouts directly into his ear. “You will do as you’re told, or we’ll see how well you can fly without those wings, okay? Do I make myself clear?”

_Patience. The chance will come. Patience._ Toomes has to recite the mantra over and over until he can bring himself to nod, appearing well subdued by the other man. He shrinks back against the wall, nursing his head once Gargan releases him.

“The world’s gone to shit, Toomes. Avengers ain’t around, nobody knows what the hell is goin’ on – we just got handed the world on a silver platter. I got you out of prison, now it’s time to pay me back and be a team player, understand?”

“Sorry – can you speak up?” Adrian puts a hand up to his ear, squinting at Mac, “I’m kind of old.”

The punch to the ribs is going to be felt for a solid two weeks at the very least, but he decides it’s worth it.

He eventually grunts out that he understands. Gargan then explains his goal to steal various versions of the Iron Man armor. Adrian would tell him to stick that right up his ass, but at the same time – if half of the world vanished, no doubt that meant half of the Avengers as well. If the heavy hitters like Thor or Vision aren’t around – hell, even if the littler ones like arrow guy aren't making waves – they’ve got it _made_. 

Or whatever Gargan’s idea of ‘made’ is. Adrian personally sees absolutely no reason in accumulating wealth in a world where society is collapsing at a staggering pace. Gargan seems to think that society will eventually rebuild itself – surprisingly optimistic from someone like him. He also seems to think that by stealing Stark’s tech, they can be on top of the criminal food chain once things begin to settle. 

Adrian sneers at the thought of being the alpha predator on this criminal Serengeti that Gargan is visualizing. He’s much happier watching from afar, and waiting for the path of least resistance. 

Still, he knows he has to cooperate for now. Gargan is stronger, younger, and has a large crew of associates at his disposal. All Adrian has on his side is patience. If that’s all he can have – then so be it. He’ll have to use it to his advantage.

“If you want me to get that wing suit up and running, your boys are going to have to get the plans. Everything from our main headquarters was confiscated during the trial.” Adrian grumbles, appearing to grudgingly accept the role that has been dealt to him.

“Not a problem.” Gargan mutters, taking a few steps back and watching him keenly. “I’ll have my guys sniff out where they stored all your designs.”

“ _Mason’s_ designs.”

“I don’t give a shit who designed them, I just need them to be rebuilt. I know you ain’t as stupid as you pretend to be. You worked with that alien shit for eight years and you expect me to buy that you never once learned how to put a few wires together? You’ll figure it out. Aleksei and Otto will lend you a hand, Toomes – but I expect that wing harness to be up and running, and a few guns would be nice too. My boys are hauling up enough goods from the D.O.D.C. vault to give you all the kibbles n’ bits you need.”

Adrian eyes him warily, face half buried in the thick shearling collar of his jacket. He glances down, trying to appear as if he’s conflicted about something. Gargan catches on, frowning at him.

“What is it?” He fumes, left hand curling into a fist.

“...How much Stark tech am I taking away from this job for myself?” He grumbles, glaring at Gargan.

A grin comes to the man’s lips and he nods, chuckling. “I knew it – I knew you’d be a team player. You stuck it to Stark for almost a decade – I knew I could count on you!” 

His jovial tone can’t mask what Adrian full well knows – there’s a knife just waiting to find his back as long as Gargan is around. He has to tread as carefully as he can, and play up his greed. Gargan had no idea who he was, or that he had any plans to reunite with his family. During their time in prison together, Gargan had never asked about them, and Toomes figured that a man like him probably didn’t put much stock in his relatives.

Adrian spends the next two weeks well away from the others as often as he can. Aleksei is the only one he occasionally allows into his space. The muscle-bound man seems to struggle with his english, but breaks into fluent Russian around Sergei. While they wait for Gargan’s men to bring the trucks up from the vault, Aleksei seems to be the most restless of them.

It’s five times now he’s wandered toward Toomes, standing just within his peripheral vision. Adrian has to acknowledge him before he speaks. Frankly he finds it creepy, Aleksei just waiting there to be addressed, staring at him while he works.

Adrian had begun the cathartic past time of copper wire theft. He’d need the wires for his wing harness once the parts arrived, and he knew enough to at least splice the wires together so they could fit the length of the frame. 

He knew Aleksei had been watching him splice the same cable for almost six minutes now. Eventually Adrian gives in and sets the wire down on his work station, turning to the man.

“What’s up?” 

“What you doing?” Aleksei asks, pointing to the lengths of copper wiring.

“Just splicing – uh, putting two wires together. They need to be pretty long throughout the wings to pass signals to the receivers at the ends.”

Aleksei grunts, and just stares at the mess of wires, cutters and pliers. Adrian stares at him in return, and soon a heavy, awkward silence falls over the pair.

“...You uh...got any hobbies, Aleksei?” Adrian finally asks, resting an elbow on the table.

Aleksei shrugs, glancing down. “Exercise. Reading – but, not many books in Russian here. I can read English but it’s hard, takes longer than what I already know.”

Aleksei strikes Adrian as the type who was just on the wrong side of the tracks most of his life and never got a good opportunity. The type that had to accept that there was one life for them, even if it wasn’t the one they’d wanted. It made Adrian a bit sad, even at his age, to see people who had never been given their fair shake.

He’d felt as much for most of his life. Life was nothing but one hurdle after another for the poor and hard working. He missed Doris, and he missed Liz – but he knew that if he hadn’t done what needed to be done, Liz never would’ve been given the opportunities that her education provided her. 

At times Adrian would think if he’d do it all over again, knowing that he’d wind up mixed up with criminals and murderers (himself one now as well). He’d decided during several occasions where the question had popped back up in the back of his head; yes. He knew Liz would be strong, Liz would recover and she’d still be as smart as she was before everything went to shit. Liz might not _forgive_ him for what he’d done, sure – but when she was older she’d understand. Even if he wasn’t completely sure that was true, he had to at least convince himself from time to time.

_If she’s even still alive._

Adrian sighed, glancing back up at Aleksei. He needed a distraction, badly.

“C’mere, I’ll show you how to splice these.”

Aleksei looks at him, confused, but steps up to the work desk and listens. As Adrian talks, occasionally looking over at Aleksei to check if he appears to be understanding, he catches a brief glimpse of a tattoo on the man’s shoulder. 

“Whassat’ there?” 

Aleksei looks over to the tattoo, pulling the strap of his wifebeater down a little further and turning his shoulder toward Adrian.

“Rhino.”

“Why a Rhino?”

“Nickname in prison. Rhino.” Aleksei answers simply. While Adrian would like an elaboration, possibly a backstory to that, he figures Aleksei isn’t the type to go into too much detail. But, he considers himself a simple man too, and he can respect that.

~

It’s almost two more weeks by the time Gargan’s men arrive with literal semi-trucks full of goods they’d looted from the Damage Control vault. Remarkably, they manage to bring most, if not _all_ of the notes and designs that Mason had put together at their main headquarters. Adrian hopes that these notes aren’t all that’s left of Mason, but there’s a chance they probably are.

The quiet, pudgy one that had been with them since Sing Sing approaches Adrian. His shoulders are slumped and he stares at the floor most of the time. Adrian doesn't consider himself an expert on matters of fashion but even he can't hide a grimace at the bowl cut. He figures this poor dough ball of a guy must’ve had one shitty time in prison. 

“M’Otto.” The man mutters, glancing up at Toomes. He’s young, must be in his late 20’s at the most. “Mac wants me to help you build your wingsuit.”

Toomes shrugs, pointing back to the blueprints and design notes all stacked up near his work desk.

“Mason and I came up with the basic stuff together but the nitty-gritty of the technicals were all him.” Adrian says, gesturing to a large schematic of the intricate merging of human and Chitauri technology. Otto gives it a quick glance, then looks back at Adrian. The kid (anyone under 30 is officially ‘kid’ to Adrian) looks so damn _sad_ to even be here. A slight breeze might send him into tears at this point. Adrian has to wonder if he’s having his arm twisted by Gargan as well – it wouldn’t necessarily surprise him. 

“Haven’t worked with Chitauri tech before.” Otto says quietly, looking over at the enormous pile that’s been assembled for him to work from. 

“But you’re good with machines or something?”

Otto gives Adrian an annoyed look, surprising him.

“Better than whoever designed your last wingsuit was.” Otto snorts, then moves to the stack of papers and schematics, laying several out on the table. 

Adrian hovers nearby, watching Otto go through Mason’s notes and designs, tossing a few of the preliminary design concepts off the desk and letting them float down to the floor. 

“I need welding equipment. Oxy-fuel, ESW, maybe ERW. Do you know what those letters mean?” Otto asks, no small hint of arrogance in his voice.

“Uh, yeah, I know what the letters mean.” Adrian sneers back at him. Never mind, he doesn’t feel bad for the kid.

“Then hurry up. Gargan wants this thing built in two weeks.” 

Otto gives Adrian a dismissive wave of his hand before turning back to his papers. Rolling his eyes, Adrian turns and makes his way out of the warehouse. At least fetching supplies will keep him busy and occupied – and away from Gargan for a few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "expect short chapters" woops


	4. Chapter 4

Gargan had been steaming for days. Otto was taking longer than the two weeks he’d demanded. In turn, Otto had argued that good work took time. It surprised Adrian to see the chubby young man shout at Gargan and get away with it. Not a slap or a punch or a threatening word in retaliation. Gargan just swallowed his pride and stormed off. 

_That_ was strange. Gargan didn’t strike him as someone who was easily intimidated, let alone by a guy with an embarrassing haircut that was under 5’5”. 

Toomes had watched from his own private corner, sitting on a lawn chair he’d swiped during his pick up of Otto’s welding equipment. Adrian found himself more tired these days – of course, he blamed most of that on age. He was old, and just getting older. 

Somehow this felt different though. This wasn’t just his knees and his back getting to him, this was something more. Getting up every morning seemed pointless. Food lost its appeal, as did going outside and the fresh air. Focusing on his own projects got harder every day, and soon he’d given up on them. Otto had snatched up the talons later on anyway and tossed them out, saying he was going to invent better ones.

The only thing that kept him remotely invested in putting effort forth was helping Aleksei from time to time with his english. The man seemed genuinely grateful. Unfortunately it didn’t stop everything else from just growing darker.

The world somehow seemed grayer and just being in it was exhausting. The reality that either Doris or Liz, or both, were dead was finally sinking in. Even if they weren’t, were they surviving the chaos that the world had fallen into when half of its population had vanished? So many ‘what if’s’ spun around in his head constantly that there wasn’t space in his head for much else.

Adrian was laying face down in his tent, the flap zippered shut. He wasn’t asleep, but he had decided that today was a day that he didn’t want to get up. He’d been laying there for what felt like three hours at the most, and had no plans on moving anytime soon.

“Vulture man!” Aleksei’s voice boomed from outside of the tent. “Come see wings!”

Fuck wings. And fuck Gargan for putting a leash on him.

Adrian let his train of thought go in that direction for a solid five minutes, completely blocking out Aleksei. The man was getting louder and louder, shaking his tent, but Adrian just ignored it. Aleksei tended to leave him alone when his moods turned south, so Adrian was sure he could just wait this one out.

Seven minutes later, thrown over the shoulder of a seven foot Russian, Adrian came to the conclusion that this was only _slightly_ more humiliating than having a hand-written ‘Found’ note taped next to him by a high schooler. 

Toomes said nothing. All he could do was just stare at the ground as Aleksei carried him up the stairs to the back of the warehouse. He sighed loudly, but that was the most he was going to voice his displeasure. Aleksei must’ve noticed it, and gave him a pat on the leg.

“You will feel better when you see wings, vulture man.”

“It’s Adrian.” He grumbled, letting his arms hang down.

“Vulture man.” Aleksei insists.

A few moments later, Adrian is set down on the concrete and Aleksei grabs him by the shoulders and turns him around to see the completed wings.

Otto was an arrogant, whining, mean-spirited little shit – but Adrian couldn’t find it within himself to hold that against him anymore.

What the kid had built was incredible. The wings matched Mason’s high altitude design in size, but with several obvious changes. The thruster engine on the back was significantly smaller, and the turbine cages were thicker. Red and green positioning lights had been placed on the tip of the left and right wing respectively, along with several smaller lights that had been set near the base of each wing, near where Adrian’s shoulders would be. 

Individual blades stuck out near the ends of each wing, shaped suspiciously like the primary feathers of a vulture’s wings. Mason had designed those as well, but these were longer and curved upward at the end. 

The nickname must’ve really stuck. Well, there were worse nicknames than ‘Vulture’ Toomes supposed.

Adrian approached one of them, staring up at the sleek surface along the interior. Small, black hexagonal tiles had been attached up along the interiors and exteriors of the wings, like some kind of solar grid. He looked over at Otto, then pointed up at the tiles.

“What’re those?”

Otto glanced at him, then nodded at the tiles. “Countermeasures. They aren’t Chitauri or Stark tech. I designed them. In case anyone tries to take you out of the air with a missile or something.”

Adrian snorted, walking over the flight harness and stepping back into it to try it on.

“So Gargan is expecting missile encounters for this job of his?” Adrian asked, strapping himself into the new harness. It was strange, and certainly not as comfortable as the last one. He’d been using the old flight harness for years, this new one would take time getting used to.

“Even if Stark’s not home, doesn’t mean his lights aren’t on. The guy probably has a security system in place for pollen that gets too close to his windows.” Otto sneered, walking over to Adrian and helping him strap the harness on correctly. “You aren’t gonna hear any noise from the turbines anymore. I installed a sound dampening ring on each one, so no one’s gonna hear you when you go over them.” 

Adrian raised a brow. That was impressive, he had to admit. He didn’t think he’d find someone as good with machines as Mason. It wasn’t a surprise that Otto reminded him of his former inventor. They were both brilliant, but with Mason, he’d always been hindered by his laziness. The man was content leading a simple, mundane life working for Toomes instead of pushing himself to achieve greater things. Adrian didn’t blame him for wanting a simple life, but it was still obvious that Mason could’ve put his skills and talents to so much more. 

Not that Adrian wasn’t glad he didn’t.

“How long’s she gonna take to warm up?” Adrian asked, raising his arms and allowing Otto to tighten the flight harness around his chest.

“Bout five minutes, give or take.” Otto responded. The man strapped Adrian’s legs into a new exoskeleton, which was much sleeker and streamline than Mason’s old designs. The kid had a flair for aesthetics if nothing else. Adrian just hoped these could absorb the shock like the last ones. One bad landing and his knees would be permanently out of commission.

“I’m still getting the auto-lock fixed on those. Once I get your measurements I can custom fit them to your legs, and then I’ll install the locks so you can just step right into them.” 

“Hey,” Adrian snorted, shrugging, “I’m impressed already kid, don’t sweat it.”

He looked up and over at the various lights that had been installed on the wings.

“Can I shut those off somehow?” He asked, pointing to one of the position lights on the tip of his left wing.

“Yeah. Those are just so we can see you for pickups. Gargan wants you to air lift the most important stuff out of the Avengers compound. He’s gonna brief you on the details.” Otto picked up a pair of black gloves from nearby and handed them to Adrian.

“Left hand is for lights, talons and countermeasures. Right hand is main thrusters and high-altitude mode. Don’t use that last one yet. If the raid on the compound goes right, the tech we grab from there will have what I need to make you a pressure suit so you can deal with higher altitudes.”

“ _Higher_?” Adrian asks, scoffing. “That Stark jet job was around 35,000 feet. Why would I need to go higher than that?”

“Why not?” Otto asks, shrugging. “I can design the gear you’d need for it. Imagine the advantage you’d have, just on height alone.”

“I’m pretty sure Iron Man and Thor can still out-fly me regardless of how high this thing can go.”

“Well I don’t see them around.” Otto snaps, glaring at him. “Do you? Who do you see around anymore? Nobody. Whatever happened, it’s been almost a month and a half and nothing’s changed. Iron Man, Thor, Falcon, War Machine, nobody’s seen them around – and if they have, it isn’t around here. Put those gloves on and start practicing so you don’t accidentally mix up your landing lights with your position lights and blind us all.”

Adrian pulls the gloves on without further argument. Otto backs up and gives him directions on how to activate the turbines, the main thrust engines, how to perform a low hover without too much backwash, all the good stuff. Low-hover mode is quickly becoming his favorite thing about the wings. The last ones had been able to hover, sure, but not just a few feet above the ground for prolonged periods of time. 

The turbines are as quiet as Otto boasts. They take a few minutes to warm up, but once Adrian feels the wings actively beginning to rise up, he tilts forward and lets them take over. They detach easily from the makeshift support rig that Otto had slapped together, and he hovers forward. 

Aleksei offers him some light applause as he hovers around the parking lot. Adrian can see Mac and the other Russian – Sergei somethingsomething standing near the warehouse entrance, watching him. The gloves are built with sensors along each finger that link up to the wings and their operations. He just has to curl a finger and it activates the desired action.

 _Let’s see what the middle finger does._

Adrian tilts the wings so that he’s facing Gargan from a distance. He curls his middle finger and can feel the sensor clicking inside of the glove. The blinding landing lights switch on, illuminating the area in front of him. He can hear Gargan shouting in surprise and pain as he covers his eyes and screams at Toomes to shut them off. Grudgingly he complies, but just seeing Gargan rapidly blinking and attempting to wobble his way back into the warehouse has made Adrian’s day. 

“Oops!” Adrian calls after him, “Sorry about that!”

Sergei yells at him in Russian but he just ignores it, and activates the main thruster engine for a rapid take off. The turbines tilt in response as he leans forward, and he sweeps over the parking lot, flying over Aleksei and Otto. He flies over the trees that surround the warehouse, looking forward as he scans the horizon. 

Adrian knows he can’t go up too high without a mask, but even being above the tree line is freeing. It helps distract him for a while from obsessing over Doris and Liz. The cold air hitting his face at rapid speeds causes his eyes to tear up, and he has to squint hard without anything to protect them. Still, just feeling the clean, fresh air above the pines is invigorating. It was a smell he’d forgotten that he’d even missed.

He flies a bit higher – as high as he’ll dare without a mask. It’s getting hard to breathe, but he risks it just for a chance to be away from Gargan for a while. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed being up in the air. It was something he’d begun to take for granted until it was taken from him. 

Radio static sounding from tiny, hidden speakers on the flight harness drew his attention.

“Might want to come back and land, Toomes. Gargan had me build a kill-switch into those in case you might try to fly off.” 

Adrian banked right, returning to the warehouse and circling it a few times. He could see Gargan, Otto, Aleksei and Sergei all watching him from the parking lot. He circled a few more times, making lazy loops in the air. If nothing else, just to get an unimpeded view of the multicolored sunset. 

_There’s a reason to stick around._ Something as simple as a good sunset, or a cold beer. He had to find a reason to keep living. Even if those reasons were as mundane as a vivid evening sky or food that he enjoyed, he had to find _something_. Adrian Toomes was a fighter. He refused to roll over back when Damage Control put him out of business. He refused to accept that Doris and Liz would have to live any way that wasn’t the best life they deserved. He had to refuse giving in to despair now, he couldn’t accept giving up any longer.

 _Doris and Liz are probably dead._ Yes, they probably were. But what if they weren’t? What if one of them was still alive? A voice pushed back at the utter despair that had been invading his mind for the last week. _You don’t know until you know._

Adrian landed. It was much easier on his body with the new turbines. They guided him into a slow hover so he could slide across the pavement until he was ready for a complete halt. He’d have to talk to Otto about the exo-legs, they weren’t taking the shock they needed to. 

As Aleksei and Otto helped him out of the flight harness, Adrian let his mind wander. He had to make a plan and wait until the time was right. Step one would be to find and deactivate the kill switch on his wings. A backup plan would have to be to cozy up to Otto and get the kid on his side. He didn’t know what kind of relationship Otto had with Gargan, but something told him they weren’t cooperating out of a mutual respect for one and other. 

Once that kill switch was deactivated, he just had to wait until the time was right to escape, and not just jump the gun and fly off as soon as he could. Things were clicking together in Adrian’s mind, he just had to wait. If he had learned one thing in life, it was that laying low and just being patient for the right opportunity yielded the best results.

Aleksei offered him a high five, which Adrian awkwardly returned. Otto was already fiddling with the wings, having made notes during Adrian’s flight. He was quick at work to fix anything he’d seen that he wasn’t completely happy with. 

Turning back to walk into the warehouse, Adrian paused as Gargan approached him.

“Otto does a good job, don’t he?” He asked, looking past Adrian to the younger man as he fiddled with the wings.

“Almost too good. Where the hell did you find this kid?”

Gargan shrugged, smirking at him. “For me to know and you to find out. Once Otto finishes fooling around with those, we’re gonna have a briefing. We gotta hit the Avengers compound soon, but I need you to do a little recon work for me first. Just so we don’t go in there with our asses hanging in the breeze.”

“Fine.” Adrian snaps back, settling his thumbs into his belt loops. “But then we’re going to discuss what kind of cut I’m getting of Stark’s equipment. I’m not doing recon work and heavy lifting or whatever the hell else for a handful arc reactors, got that?”

Gargan raises his hands to try and pacify the other, shaking his head. “Hey man, hey – you’ll get your cut, don’t worry. We’re all gonna get what we want out of there, got it?”

Adrian gives him a critical look, snorting quietly. “I’d better. If that spider-kid hadn’t crashed the damn plane, I would’ve been sitting on most of that tech already.”

“But he did.” Gargan chuckled, “And now you get to finish part of what you started, huh? Who knows, you might just be sitting on twice of what that plane was carrying.”

Adrian quirks an eyebrow at that, tilting his head. He gives Gargan a look that reads _You might have a point there_ and walks back into the warehouse.

While he was planning and preparing for his inevitable escape from Gargan, Adrian had to be honest with himself. It was going to feel so damn good to stick it to Tony Stark. Even if the man was already dead, for all he knew. Adrian wasn’t above petty vengeance. It gave him a mild distraction from Liz and Doris, at least for now.


	5. Chapter 5

Adrian circled the Avengers compound lazily. Gargan and told him, very firmly (and repeatedly) to wait for his call.

Wait for the call.

 _Fine._ He would wait. Adrian had been waiting for almost an hour at this point and was beginning to grow drowzy.

Gargan was a shockingly excellent tactician and planner. He’d given Adrian, Otto, Aleksei and Sergei a briefing that was well planned and concrete. Adrian had to wonder what other kind of surprise expertise Gargan had hidden away in that brain of his. Someone didn’t plan, coordinate and lead a five man heist without having cut their teeth on something just as big or bigger first. 

Of course, if things went wrong Adrian couldn’t exactly blame it on Gargan either. They were a five man team going into a compound guarded by a group of experienced and extremely loyal ex-SHIELD personnel. 

Gargan and Aleksei were taking point, with Sergei well hidden in the nearby woods and providing sniper cover. Otto was in the truck they had driven there, priming a series of explosives that Sergei had placed around the compound earlier that evening. The first initial round of explosions had drawn around 10 Avengers personnel. Each ended up being summarily gunned down by Sergei, while Adrian watched from the darkening sky overhead. 

Sergei Kravinoff seemed to draw a fair amount of both respect and admiration from Gargan, and seemed to have a mild friendliness with Aleksei. Adrian hadn’t spoken to him much, and Otto didn’t know him at all. The Russian couldn’t have been that old. Older than Gargan but younger than Adrian, perhaps in his mid to late 40’s if Toomes had to guess. He was tall and athletic, but not the pure wall of muscle that Aleksei was. The man was fiercely attached to his sniper rifle, and had a necklace of teeth that he claimed were from the ten different types of rare game he’d gunned down. Adrian wanted to ask what had drawn him away from his hunting hobby, but the way Kravinoff seemed to relish in rushing off into the woods to make his sniper’s den, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to find out.

As Adrian circled the compound, he wore a makeshift breathing mask and goggles that Otto had rigged up for him. He couldn’t see as well as he could in his old helmet, but it wasn’t too much of a hindrance. He knew each little red shape that was quickly winding its way toward the explosion was an Avengers compound guard. He knew when the little red shapes turned blue, that Sergei had dispatched them with a ridiculous amount of ease.

Adrian didn’t feel terribly sorry for the personnel that had remained on the compound. No doubt they were hoping, praying, that their Avengers would return. Or maybe they were just so loyal that they wouldn’t abandon their post knowing the kinds of technology and raw materials were within the warehouse they were guarding. 

Specifically, guarding against people like Adrian, Gargan and Otto.

Well, they chose to stay, he figured. This was just business. It was just business burying Pedro under that roof – even if the little brat did fish his way out. It was just business manufacturing the weapons for nearly a decade. He wasn’t ashamed of what he had to do to get what he needed. Right now, he needed this mission to go smoothly so he could get back to base alive. If that meant about two dozen of the Avenger’s rank and file had to be put down, so be it.

Hell, he would’ve told them it wasn’t personal if he could. _He_ didn’t install the kill switch in his wings, otherwise he’d be halfway to Kansas by now. 

Adrian yawned, stretching his arms. The new wings had almost no drag or chop while he was up in the air, and it made circling the compound all the more boring. 

A second round of explosions tore through the warehouse entrance, blasting it apart. That brought Adrian out of his boredom quickly, and he narrowed his eyes for any sign of Gargan.

Nothing yet.

 _‘This is Scorpion,’_ Gargan’s voice sounded through his earpiece. Adrian rolled his eyes. He had almost forgotten about the nicknames. Lucky him. Oh – sorry, ‘call signs’.

_’Got six left. They’ve holed themselves up in the lounge room. Can’t get to them without going down a hall and we’ll get shot to bits.’_

_’This is Doc. Just throw your last strip of explosives down the hall, I’ll set it off remotely. Hunter already took care of the warehouse guards._

A few seconds passed, then Gargan’s voice came back over the comm. _’Explosives are down the hall, me and Rhino are on our way out. Blow them in 30 seconds.’_

Otto confirmed the orders, and Adrian began to descend. Now that the guards were taken care of, he didn’t have to fear anyone spotting him by pure luck in the dead of night and getting a few shots off.

Sergei’s rough, low voice came in over the comm. _’Hunter moving to warehouse to begin first extraction.’_

The others radioed their acknowledgment, followed a few seconds later by one final explosion in the middle of the compound. Flames rose up and out through the ceiling, burying the last of the Avengers personnel that had fought the good fight. 

Adrian steered around the sudden plume of burning air, avoiding it easily as he continued to circle. He could see Sergei below, breaking the glass case of a fire extinguisher mounted on the outer warehouse wall. The man quickly put out the flames left over on the doors, and stepped inside. Otto’s voice sounded out on the comm once more.

_’Hurry it up. Picked up comm chatter before the last explosion – backup personnel are on their way._

_’How many?’_ Gargan asked. Adrian could see him and Aleksei now running across the field of dead bodies, courtesy of Sergei. They stepped over them quickly, both armed to the teeth with guns they’d snatched up from the dead. 

_’About thirty. They’re twenty minutes out, coming up the road.’_

_’Vulture,’_ Gargan snarled, _’Get as many crates as you can to the truck in fifteen. The last crate is the arc reactors, air lift that out and avoid combat. Doc, get the explosive strips ready for our friends. Rhino, get back to the truck and get the crates on board as Vulture brings them down. Hunter, haul as many out as you can. Move.’_

Gargan may have been a murderous sociopath but he was a murderous sociopath who could hold a team together. 

Toomes flew lower, slowing his descent and activating the positioning lights on his wings. Sergei had shot the exterior lights of the compound out before the raid began. It was nearly pitch black save for the glow coming from distant fires.

Kraven had wheeled out two crates already for Adrian to pick up. Both were still emblazoned with the old SHIELD logo. Whatever it was, it must’ve been before the whole Triskelion mess. Otto had been very specific concerning what they needed to bring out, the only issue was if Sergei and Gargan could actually find what he wanted in the time allowed.

The new talons were more curved, and they pierced right through the thick material of the SHIELD crate. Adrian could feel the engine strain slightly as he forced himself to ascend. Whatever it was, it must’ve been heavy. _Really_ heavy. The gears within the exo-legs whirred in annoyance at being strained so hard, but Toomes ignored it. With a bit more fighting, the crate finally rose off the ground and was ferried off.

Sergei waited by the semi truck they’d taken up there. A flatbed dolly was next to him, with a pair of ramps extended out from the interior of the semi. Raising his arms and gesturing to Adrian, Sergei helped him lower the crate onto the flatbed perfectly. As he turned to push it up into the semi, Adrian was already flying off to retrieve another.

After this back and forth nearly six times, Gargan finally waved his hand at Adrian and pointed to the final crate. 

_’Grab these and get back to the warehouse!’_ Gargan shouted over the comm before turning and signaling Sergei to retreat. The two men made a break for it across the open grounds, racing back to the semi.

Adrian ascended with the final crate, a lifetime supply of arc reactors clutched in his talons. As he rose higher up and into the darkness, deactivating the lights at the ends of his wings, he felt a memory hit him. 

The beach, the stink of burning wires and scorched metal, the lights of the amusement park through the heavy smoke left from the crash. He could hear the ringing in his ears again, and feel the awful jerks and shakes his wingsuit had given him while it struggled to keep him aloft. Of course, the kid too. 

Oh, Pedro. He had to hand it to him, the kid did him a solid. Not too often someone you actively try to force into a jet turbine ends up saving your life from under three hundred pounds of sizzling irony. 

Adrian wondered if the kid was still alive. He hoped he was, in all truth. He knew the kid was just trying to be like his hero, just trying to do the boyscout version of the ‘right thing to do’. Pedro didn’t know any better. Not yet, anyway. There were plenty of growing pains in store for Peter Parker, this much Adrian knew. The kid would have to learn the hard way that, just because _you_ treat others fairly, doesn’t mean the rest of the world will return the favor.

Of course, he could’ve been turned to dust along with the rest of them, for all Adrian knew. But he hoped he hadn’t. 

A stream of lights drew Adrian’s attention down to the road far below him. It looked like a glowing caterpillar, slowly weaving its way around the broad curves of the road to the compound. They wouldn’t be able to see him up this high with the naked eye, and Adrian was sure they were more preoccupied with the threat ahead of them.

He didn’t turn to see if Otto’s road explosives had gone off, nor did he turn to see if they needed any further assistance. Gargan had been adamant that if nothing else, to get the arc reactors back to the warehouse. They would abandon the rest if they were forced to, but the arc reactors were the real meat of the mission. 

It took him nearly a half hour to reach their warehouse. He didn’t risk pushing top speed, even though the talons were sunken in deep to the crate walls. Adrian wouldn’t risk losing an entire crate of arc reactors a second time around.

The huge empty parking lot was a welcome sight as he slowly descended. He could feel the resistance against his back as the turbines shifted to provide a purely vertical landing. Adrian released the crate once it was firmly on the ground, and flew back to the wing rig. Otto had made the final adjustments to the exo-legs, and now once the wings were in their supports, the legs cleanly opened along the front so he could step out.

Unstrapping the flight harness was another beast all together, but Adrian had to admit, he did feel a bit safer being strapped up tighter, and it was less stress on his body. The peace of mind however came at a price, he couldn’t detach like he’d been able to with the last pair – once the wings were on, they were on until he was done for the day.

Finally out of the flight harness and exo-legs, Adrian stretched and walked around the parking lot a few times to enjoy the cool night air. If everything had gone according to plan, they’d be back in an hour or two, he figured. Briefly he thought to look for the kill switch during that time, but it was too dark, and he was already feeling tired from the late hour. Better to fiddle around with something like that with a sharp mind and good lighting.

He dozed off against the arc-reactor crate. That also brought back memories of Parker tugging him along the beach and planting him there, fixing him to the crates with his webbing.

 _’Hey Mr.Toomes, don’t run off okay.’_ He’d said. Little shit.

The rumble of a semi engine brought him out of his half-nap. Pushing himself up, Adrian watched as the truck rolled into the parking lot. Gargan, Otto and Aleksei cheered and jumped out, fist pumping and high fiving and all the other embarrassing things grown men did when things went really, _really_ well.

Kravinoff was completely stoic, sliding out of the semi cab with his drag bag. The man grumbled something in Russian and walked back into the warehouse. 

“Top of the food chain now, baby!” Gargan shouted, whooping loudly as he ran to the back of the semi to open the doors.

Adrian watched him with mild amusement, then turned his head away, yawning. Well, he’d done his part. Sleep was calling and he was glad to answer. One spine-crushing bear hug from Aleksei later, Adrian was hobbling into his tent and zipping the flap shut behind him.

He was relieved the heist had gone off without issues. The happier Gargan was, the easier it made things for Adrian. Still, even with the success, escape was firmly in the back of his mind. He was getting roped in tighter and tighter into their five-man band, and he didn’t like it. Adrian knew he had to keep waiting and bide his time, but every day felt like he was moving further and further away from ever getting free.


	6. Chapter 6

Adrian shares a long side-eye with Aleksei. The two have become masters of sharing looks now that they’ve been drafted to help Otto complete his own ‘project’. The ‘project’ entails four enormous tentacle-like appendages that are going to be connected directly to his brain waves through some kind of fancy helmet he’s made.

Gargan and Sergei are on the other side of the work station, both struggling to support the second of the two tentacles that Otto is attaching. Both appendages are being welded and spliced onto a back rig that Otto is seated in front of. Nearby, a helmet, half completed with sensors running up and down the interior, sits in waiting. The stolen Stark tech from the Avengers compound has put Otto on a tear. The young man has been working nonstop, with barely a break in between to sleep or eat, for nearly a week now.

Adrian is impressed, and wishes he’d had Otto alongside Mason back in the day. 

_Well..._ He pauses at that. There was only so much of Mason he could take over a twenty four hour period. Lord knows how he’d stand both of them. Otto was like Mason but smarter and meaner. 

“Hold it higher!” Otto barks from his crouched position over the back piece. His voice is muffled slightly by the welding mask over his face. 

Aleksei sighs and heaves the stiff metal limb a few inches higher. Adrian has been holding the limb steady while Aleksei does the majority of the heavy work. Even with the much stronger man taking on most of the weight of the limb, it’s still a struggle on Adrian’s part.

Otto turned away and went back to finishing the rest of the welds. Wires are connected and metal bits soldered into place. Finally after nearly another half hour of uncomfortable shifting and quiet complaints, Otto stands up and gives a nod. 

As they release the limbs, the mechanical arms dip slightly from the removal of their support. Adrian quietly grimaces as he stares at them, expecting the metal to buckle and for the arms to collapse. However, they did no such thing, adhered securely to the back plates.

“Leave, I need to conduct more tests.” Otto grumbles, going back to his work station.

His mood was always sour, and they’d all gotten used to it. Besides, Otto had already begun preliminary work on a suit for Aleksei, as well as some kind of arm thing for Gargan. He’d tried to persuade Sergei into letting him make something for him, but the proud Russian had repeatedly refused.

Since the first raid on the Avengers compound, Gargan had sent Adrian and Sergei back for several more retrieval rounds. After their third visit, there were no more personnel left to deal with. The few left alive that Sergei hadn’t killed had high tailed it out of there when they realized just how outclassed they were. Adrian admittedly had snatched a few up and given them a long drop, but only when they fired at him. He didn’t feel very bad about it. Hadn’t felt bad about roasting Jackson either.

It gave Adrian pause sometimes to think, he probably _should_ feel bad about killing another human being. No doubt the weapons he’d sold had gone on to end a few lives. _Probably more than a few._ Somehow though, unless those lives were people he cared about within his inner circle, he just couldn’t bring himself to give too much of a shit.

Plus, these guys were shooting at him. That was all the justification he felt he needed to practice his dive bombs and snatch them up for a quick trip back to ground level.

After the numerous trips back and forth, they had all but raided the entire Avengers warehouse. The amount of crates and goods they’d filled their base with was rapidly encroaching into their living and work space.

Adrian spent most of his days in his wings, moving stock for Otto and letting the younger man bark at him. He didn’t care much really, he wasn’t the type to let his ego get in the way of being a team player when he had to be. 

Aleksei had gotten the better of him. Adrian found himself developing a soft spot for the giant of a man. They were quick to pair up when it come to food or fuel runs. Adrian would fly into town, letting Aleksei hitch a ride on his back. After nearly a week of Aleksei staring at him with a heartbroken expression, Otto had caved and installed a small pair of straps on the top of Adrian’s wing harness. It allowed for someone to hang onto the back without having to clutch metal.

The man was having the time of his life thanks to those straps. Aleksei’s joy was a little contagious. Adrian wasn’t much for ‘happy’ those days, but the other man’s genuine happiness at just being allowed to fly with him brought the occasional grin to Adrian’s face.

Said grin was on Adrian’s face on a cool Thursday night that week as he flew a few feet above a highway. They’d been over this highway several times, coming across an abandoned car here and there. All the vehicles left on the road had already been pilfered for fuel, and Adrian lazily flew past them with disinterest. 

Their goal that night was New Paltz. The college town had become somewhat of a haven for people that were trying to get away from New York City. From what Gargan had picked up over radio chatter between the sad remaining fragments of law enforcement was this; New York City was considered a total loss. From the initial panic that swept the city and the deadlock of the city streets thanks to a multitude of driverless cars, to the long term looting and outbreaks of violence, it was the last place any sane person wanted to be.

Which was exactly why Gargan was planning on moving them right smack into the old Avenger’s tower.

Top of the criminal food chain and all that, he figured. Once Otto had finished up all of their new gear, Gargan said they’d be unstoppable in claiming that tower for their base of operations for criminal enterprise. Was it really criminal if technically no one was around to enforce the law? Why would Gargan want the biggest, most obvious, grandiose, over the top, vulgar building in all of the New York skyline? Adrian didn’t care to ask.

Nope. 

His (and Aleksei’s) job was to gather fuel. Fuel they were going to need for the trucks to transport all the ridiculous amounts of technology they’d stolen from the Avengers compound. Gargan wanted him to gather diesel fuel, which had become increasingly rare and well guarded by hoarders and remaining law enforcement alike. Adrian felt more like an errand boy than an ex arms baron.

Despite Gargan’s over the top ambitions of becoming some kind of crime lord in the heart of NYC, Adrian felt that returning to the city would be a good thing. The violence there had been described as ‘epidemic’ and ‘gargantuan’. With some luck, going back to NYC might just take care of Gargan all on its own.

New Paltz came into view, nestled in some of the most scenic hills and mountains upstate New York could provide. Well, it wasn’t _that_ upstate, but it was north enough of the city to qualify. 

Adrian could see lights on in a few buildings. Rolling blackouts had become a regular occurrence within the last month. Luckily for them, Adrian and Otto had found a way to rig up the power supply to the warehouse to a few Chitauri power cores. The rest of the world still desperately hooked up to the failing power grid wasn’t so lucky. 

“Circle round up high, I will look for diesel stash.” Aleksei spoke into his tiny comm device. 

Adrian gave a nod, ascending over the top of the tallest of New Paltz’s buildings, which was less than 10 stories. He pressed a small switch on the back of his helmet, activating a ‘tactical view’ that brought up a more advanced, detailed HUD than his previous helmet. He had to hand it to Otto, the kid could slap together some fascinating tech.

“Stay away from bullets!” Aleksei added as they went higher. 

Adrian had to chuckle at that one. Already a few pops were sounding out from the top floors of several buildings that he passed by. People were always taking pot shots at them whenever he flew into town for a raid, not that it did them any good.

He continued to circle around the town as Aleksei peeked out from behind his head with binoculars. Now and then he’d bring a wing up when they got close to a tall building. Only once or twice were the shooters good enough to hit a quickly moving aerial target. Their luck or skill was in vain unfortunately, and the few bullets that reached Adrian harmlessly bounced off the wing.

“I see stash! Under blue tarp, hidden by awning on hospital building.” 

Aleksei pointed over Adrian’s shoulder, guiding his line of sight until he spotted the tarp. Nearly fifty drums of fuel were hidden beneath it. It wasn’t as much as Adrian had hoped – the fuel consumption on semis was ten kinds of ridiculous – but it was enough to at least get two back to the city for now.

“Get yourself ready and I’ll drop you down. I’ll keep ‘em busy while you get the net on.” Adrian called back to him. 

Aleksei nodded, hanging onto a strap with one hand, preparing the rifle he’d brought with him with the other. He closed his eyes, pressing himself close against the metal wings as Adrian went into a dive. 

It was sudden, fast, and caused both their stomachs to rise up into their chests. Adrian loved the feeling, it never got old for him. At his speeds, the dive only took a few seconds. He stalled at the last moment, turbines tilting to compensate for the sudden stop. 

As soon as he felt Aleksei’s weight leave his back, Adrian shot back into the sky with a rapid vertical ascent. His goal now was to keep the gunners distracted and away from Aleksei and wait for the other man to get everything prepared.

He’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy this a little too much for his own good. The wings were hardy, and could slice through concrete just as well as Mason’s could. He circled the nearby buildings a few times, drawing fire to him. Swinging his wings forward as he dove toward the tallest of the buildings, the satisfying sound of ricocheting bullets was like music to his ears. 

Concrete exploded outward and sheet glass shattered into enormous chunks as he ran a wing through the side of the building. Several gunners that had been perched on the same floor dove out of the way, shouting in fear and surprise. Adrian tore a long gash through the west facing side of the former hospital administrative center. As he finished and banked to the right, he glanced to the end of his wing. His HUD briefly flashed on a large chunk of ‘organic material’ that had been caught on the end of a blade feather.

Adrian smirked. Served them right.

Briefly glancing down at Aleksei, he saw that the man was being pinned down by several cops that had come out to defend the precious diesel. That wouldn’t do.

He broke into a dive, the ground fast approaching as he swooped toward the trio. Aleksei was pinned back behind a cement pillar that supported the awning, and the cops were being careful not to fire toward the diesel. With the three of them taking turns to fire and reload, Aleksei didn’t have a moment to return fire. 

Only one cop spotted Adrian, but none of the them heard him coming. Swinging his legs forward, he managed to snatch two of them, ascending with them securely in either talon. The curved talons dug deep into skin, like long black fishing hooks. As the men struggled, they only gored themselves further onto the talons until Adrian reached the top of the building and let them drop.

Aleksei had taken the opportunity to kill the remaining officer, and was now feverishly working to get Otto’s net rigging under the oil drums. It wasn’t a complicated process, just a tedious one. 

Otto had made the net rig with something he called ‘slip-mesh’. The mesh, even when formed into a rope structure, could flatten and slide beneath heavy objects with relative ease. Otto had gone into the technical details about zero friction blah blah but by that point Adrian had been thinking about what he was going to eat that day.

Whatever it was, it was a pain in the ass to work with because it was slippery as hell, but once it was on, it was _on_. Still, fifty drums was a hefty number. Aleksei had to drag the slip-mesh net under them and make sure not one was missed, and then secure the ends together with the talon clamp. Hard work to do when people were shooting at you.

Adrian turned, determined to keep him covered. The shooters had regrouped and were now taking aim at Aleksei, desperate to protect their fuel.

Spotting the shooters from nearby windows, Adrian began his attack. Slicing through one wall after another, he strafed from building to building. Barely any of the shooters were caught in his wings, (and those that were were quickly minced), but it was enough to scare them off for a few precious seconds for Aleksei.

He continued the harassment for a good five minutes, swooping from one building to the next whenever a brave idiot would try to fire at him or Aleksei. Most of them had gotten wise and gone hiding.

Aleksei’s voice rang over the comm, calling him down for the pick up. 

Now came the dangerous part.

Adrian turned, descending toward the netted drums of diesel. Aleksei was standing on top of them, holding up the harness that Adrian had to grab with his talons. The Russian had clipped himself onto the netting in case he fell. And it was _extremely_ easy to slip and fall on the accurately named slip-mesh. 

No matter how many times they’d done raids, some idiot always got it in his head that it was a good idea to try and get the jump on Adrian just as he was slowing into a controlled descent to snatch the cargo. 

Today was no exception.

With the harness already secured in his talons, Adrian was in the early beginnings of his ascent when he heard Aleksei shout at him over the comm. Movement to the right caught his eye, but it was too far out of his peripheral vision to see.

Two choices presented themselves to Adrian. Turn and sway the cargo, possibly cause the harness to get twisted and the oil drums to tilt and possibly leak, or fly faster and just hope they miss.

_Fly faster and just hope they miss._

The turbines spun at max RPM, and Adrian felt the wings rattle briefly from the sudden, jarring ascent. He had to risk it. He shouted for Aleksei to hold on as he guns it into a rapid vertical takeoff. 

He feels pain, searing and white hot, above his right knee. Son of a bitch managed to plug him despite the odds. Well, that was good for him, and bad for Adrian. The flight back to Otto’s compound wasn’t too long, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay conscious at that rate. He wasn’t exactly young. He knew the risk he was taking back in New York when he ran the heists, but that had been low risk – at least compared to this.

He doesn’t say anything, biting back the pain, switching his comm to manual so Aleksei can’t hear him groaning. They leave New Paltz and its one lucky gunman behind, soaring back to the highway.

It was another ten minutes before he felt Aleksei shift around on the cargo.

“Vulture!” Aleksei’s voice called over the comm, “Blood all over your pants, are you hurt?”

“They got me.” He admits, biting back another groan of pain. “I can make it back to the warehouse...but let Doc know anyway. Just in case. I’m gonna fly low.”

He reached he interstate that they had flown up not even an hour ago. The oil drums are so numerous and heavy that he can’t gun it at full speed and go horizontal. Instead he has to stay bent forward, with the turbines in their vertical position. Having accommodate for his cargo is the biggest time sink.

There’s silence over his comm for a while as he feels the hot blood quickly move down his leg to his foot, pooling within his boot. With every heartbeat he knows more is coming out, and he’s starting to think – okay – maybe making it to the headquarters was a bit of wishful thinking. They’d only been on the road for a half hour and he already feels like he’s drowning in exhaustion.

Otto’s voice finally comes on the line and for whatever reason, Adrian feels relief. The kid always knows what to do, he always has a plan.

“Vulture, stay on your current heading. Hunter and I are coming out to meet you. Fly low and slow, just focus on keeping the cargo safe. Am I understood?”

“You got it, doc.”

There’s a brief pause, soft static filling the line before a rushed, “And hang in there.” is added before Doc’s comm line switches off.

_Aw. The little shit really does care._

Adrian slumps forward, the wings doing most of the steering for now. He just has to make sure he doesn’t lean too far to the left or right. Just lean forward. Lean forward.

“Vulture, let me tell of how I single-handedly cooked entire Russian Mafia in jail authentic stroganoff with limited resource!” Aleksei practically shouted over the comm. “Great story, many laughs!”

“Shoot, Rhino.” Adrian mumbled. His eyes feel heavy, despite the bright green HUD feeding him a well lit version of the never-ending road.

“No mushroom in prison, but Aleksei can improvise, you see, I-...”

Aleksei trails off and Adrian struggles to listen, limbs feeling heavier and pulse slowing.

_I’m going to die out here. I’m going to die because some dickhead got a lucky pot shot off at me while I was near the ground. I’m never gonna see my baby again..._

He hears Aleksei calling to him through the comm, feels the chill run up his legs and fill his entire body. He sees the long road before them suddenly turn sideways. In the back of his mind, he hears Mason’s voice, shouting at him. Why was Mason shouting? What was wrong?

_”Chief you’re banking too fast, you gotta drop the cargo!”_

“What?” He mumbles, struggling to keep his eyes open. “What you say Mason?” 

He knows Aleksei is calling him over the comm but he doesn’t understand what the man is shouting. A sudden shot of adrenaline brings him back briefly as he realizes Mason was right. He was banking too hard, he was going to crash – the cargo was going to be dragged if he didn’t release it.

Curling the right finger, even if somewhat clumsily, initiates the cargo release. 

He feels the talons detach and release the oil drums – and Aleksei – to a short, maybe four or five foot drop. Fingers crossed the drums don’t get damaged and leak. That’d be a bummer.

The realization that he’s diving straight into the pavement is a pretty calm one. With this much blood loss, most of what’s happening to Adrian Toomes right now, he has decided – is just fine.


	7. Chapter 7

Otto squints through the night vision goggles, holding them steady as Kravinoff floors it down the freeway.

“Old man most likely is dead.” Kravinoff mutters, not taking his eyes off the road. “If not, will need medical care.”

“I know.” Otto snaps back. Kravinoff isn’t bothered by his moodiness. The sniper rarely seems to react with anything outside of stoicism.

“Why go to trouble?”

Otto sighs, annoyed at Kravinoff’s questions. Normally the man isn’t this talkative. 

“Toomes might have one foot in the grave most days, but would you really trust Gargan or Aleksei on that wing rig? Whether the old man knows it or not, it takes a certain level of guts and skill to pilot that thing and do what he does. He got nearly a decades worth of experience behind the wheel with his last pair. You find me someone with eight years of experience flying a personal VTOL aircraft system _and_ a willingness to use it in our criminal endeavors, please. I’ll take them into consideration.”

“Anyone can learn to use wings.”

Otto sneered, putting on a mockery of Kravinoff’s accent, “But can anyone learn to use wings _good_ , comrade?”

That finally earned him an annoyed glance from the hunter, and Otto just grinned in return. 

The two drove in silence for a while longer until Otto finally mustered the courage to speak about something he was sure that Kravinoff would scoff at. 

“I know you don’t put a lot of stock in giving a shit about people. Consider you...y’know, like to hunt them. I get it, you fly solo, that’s your thing. It’s fine. But Gargan actually kind of has a weird point. It’ll behoove us to work together and support each other. We’re not a gang or a couple of...drug guys who will sell each other out at the first sign of trouble.” Otto paused, “I was never actually involved in the criminal underworld, I got sent away for manslaughter. I don’t know how gangs work.”

This piques Kravinoff’s interest and he looks over at Otto. He knows immediately what Kravinoff is interested in, and he sighs. Time to mull over his favorite piece of uncomfortable history.

“When I was in grad school, I built a limb rig like the one I have back at HQ. The one I built back then sort of...pulled my professor apart. While I was operating it. And we were having an argument...it was an accident!”

Kravinoff chuckles, nodding and turning back to the road. “Feeling bad now won’t change it.” 

Well, he had a point there. 

“Anyway,” Otto continued, “I was never a street criminal...person...before all this. But I binge watched a lot of Law and Order in high school and it sounds like criminals aren’t usually friends. Now – now before you get any ideas, I’m not suggesting we be friends.”

“Good.”

“..Right – but what I _am_ suggesting is that we make a pretty good team, right? We can all tolerate each other to a certain extent. Especially when you all aren’t bothering me at my work station. We can occupy the same space and form plans, we all have our roles to fill. This is a good team. This is a good thing we’ve got going.”

Kravinoff shrugs, giving a nod of agreement. “Is good thing, true.”

“Right. So that just means we need to support each other. Like right now. If we lose Toomes, we lose our air superiority. It’ll take time and finding someone we can trust, which will not be easy, to get a replacement. Unless you want to me to resize the rig to fit you so you can learn how to use it?”

Kravinoff shudders at the thought, shaking his head. “Hate flying.”

“See? One down. I have my own rig that I’m almost done with. Gargan likes to keep things ‘up close and personal’ as he put it – and, would you really trust Rhino to fly that thing if he had to carry two tons of equipment _and_ you safely? I’m making him a suit specifically designed to crash through walls. Does that scream ‘aerial finesse’ to you?”

“Point is made.”

“Alright – alright.”

Otto fidgets in his seat for a little bit. The sun has gone down well beyond the horizon, and the crescent moon is peaking out from behind some heavy cloud cover. It’s a cool night, and Otto can smell the rain that’s coming in from the north.

“Is this top speed Kravinoff?”

“Mm. We get there soon.” 

“Can I ask you a favor?”

Kravinoff glances at him oddly then gives a nod.

“If he’s still alive when we get there but it’s not something we can fix, I got some morphine stashed in the back. If we’re sure he’s just going to die there could you uh...just- you know?”

The Russian gives him a small nod, turning his eyes back to the road. 

Otto breathes a sigh of relief. Out of all the group, he was still the youngest, and he figures maybe that was why he was so soft about these sorts of things. Gargan, Kravinoff, Aleksei and Toomes could all kill without the slightest hesitation. He’d seen all of them do it at least twice. 

Him on the other hand, he still had nightmares about the aftermath of the lab incident. Of a red soaked lab coat and person pieces strewn from one end of the lab to the other. Students screaming, people shouting in horror when they came in to see what was wrong. Everything had gone numb for him at that point after the arms had just...torn and ripped and twisted away at the man. Otto remembered shouting at them to stop – as if that would do any good. 

They had been wired to a helmet similar to the one he had constructed back at the lab. One that could sense his neural patterns and commands. If he’d really wanted them to stop, they would have. That was really the damning evidence in court when his own presentation about ‘absolute control’ using the neural helmet had been brought in by the prosecution. 

He’d grown fond of all of them. Except Gargan. The man knew Otto’s worth and backed off whenever he got too pushy, but Otto was still downright terrified of him. He knew that if it came down to it, he was all bark, and Gargan was all bite. Kravinoff though was quiet but knowledgeable, Aleksei was jovial and never picked on him. Toomes was laid back and had a good work ethic. 

No, they weren’t friends. But they still needed to look out for each other. Otto knew that the chances of a man in his 60’s to survive a gunshot wound after nearly an hour and a half of infliction was pretty damn low, especially one to the thigh as Aleksei had described. Still, he had to try. 

Plus he _really_ didn’t want the beautiful wing suit he’d built for Toomes to end up in the hands of some jerkoff who would crash it.

“See them.” Kravinoff grunted.

Otto sat up in the passenger seat of the Jeep, bringing his night vision goggles back up to his face. He could see it then, the massive wings sprawled across four lanes of highway. Adrian had at least had the sense, or luck, to make a full turn and land on his back. The bladed feathers of the wing tips cut through the cold air, sharp black silhouettes rising against the dark blue sky.

He saw Aleksei rise up from nearby, waving at them. Kravinoff slowed the Jeep and the two climbed out, rushing over to Aleksei who was carrying Toomes. Even in the dark, Otto is able to spot a heavy bandage above Toomes’ right knee. He silently gives himself a pat on the back for installing a small first aid kit in one of the wing compartments.

“Still have pulse but, I don’t know how to help this.” Aleksei said quietly, offering Toomes over to Kravinoff.

The man takes him, bringing Toomes to the back seat of the Jeep and laying him down carefully. As he works, Otto takes out a flashlight and begins to inspect the wing rig.

“Did the diesel make it?” He asks as he checks over the most vital components.

“All drums are good, no leaks.”

“Good...still, getting these back without the wing rig will be a logistical nightmare. I might have to just use them myself.” Otto gives a look back at the giant wings, spread out on the pavement. “Not really my style but we can’t just leave them here.”

Kravinoff grunts to get their attention, Otto and Aleksei looking over at him. He’s positioned himself awkwardly over Toomes, flashlight wedged between the side of his face and his shoulder. 

“Superficial wound – in and out. Lots of bleeding, but no bullet inside. May make it through the night..might not. He needs a blood transfusion.”

“Where we gonna pick one of those up? The Costco nearby is all out.” Otto huffs.

Kravinoff hops down from the passenger seat, climbing back in behind the wheel. 

“Medical tech was in one of the crates we stole from Avengers HQ. I’ll see if I can get an ID of his blood type and find donor.” Kravinoff explains.

“Let us know as soon as you find out.” Otto responds with his attention only half on Kravinoff. He stares at the wing rig in apprehension. When Otto built it, he’d never intended to actually _use_ it himself. Knowing what the controls did was one thing, actual experience was another. 

“Get in wings so we can get fuel back to warehouse!” Aleksei shouts, moving to the netted oil drums a few yards away. Toomes had at least had the sense to drop the goods before impact. 

“Uhhh yeah just..gimme a few minutes to get in this thing.” Otto responds, nervously looking down at the rig that he had tailored to Adrian’s measurements. From the exo-legs to the gloves, it was all custom. Illegal turbine powered alien-tech flight suits didn’t come in Small to XL. 

“I’m going back to headquarters.” Kravinoff called from the Jeep as he turned it on. “Don’t waste time.”

With that, Kravinoff speeds away with an unconscious and possibly soon to be dead Adrian Toomes.

Otto swallows nervously, looking back down at the wing rig. Well, on the upside, he didn’t have to get it turned over. Toomes had landed on his back and skidded across the highway for a while before stopping. All he had to do was lay back in the harness and get it attached, get himself in the exo-legs and put the gloves on. 

Easy. 

Easy peasy. 

Easy peasy crash and die if there’s a strong breezy.

“Rhino come help me get in this thing.” 

He knew the man’s real name but, Rhino just _fit_. Plus Aleksei seemed to like the nickname.

Otto laid himself back into the harness, securing the saddle and leg straps on himself. Rhino had to help him with the underarm and chest straps, readjusting the length of the straps several times before it finally fit.

“You are fatter than Vulture.” Rhino remarked. 

Otto bristled, but he knew that Rhino was just making an observation, not a judgment.

“Will the exo-legs fit?” He asked, unable to bend down to look. That was frustrating. _Mental note, improve flight rig so user can actually bend over._ He felt a little silly but he’d never really considered Adrian would have to bend completely down when he could just lean forward for his momentum. 

He felt the pressure of the metal as Rhino tried to fit the casings over his legs. He could tell it was going to be a rough time, but if Rhino just squeezed hard enough some of that pudge could move…

After much struggling and uncomfortable shifting around, the exo-legs finally locked into place. Otto’s legs were shorter than Adrian’s, so the exo-legs didn’t fit like they were supposed to. They tugged and pinched at various parts of his skin, but it would only be for the trip, he reminded himself. Just for the trip back.

Rhino helped him pull the gloves on. He ran through the various operations in his head then nodded to himself. He had this. He could do this.

“Get the talon harness ready on those oil drums so we can get them back to base!” He ordered.

Rhino nods and rushes back to the oil drums, securing himself on the slip-mesh. 

Otto knew the mathematical formulas he’d taken into account when creating Adrian’s new wings. He knew how air pressure worked. The needed lift, the tilt of the rotors, the brief drop he would feel when the rotors would shift to accommodate for his movements. Every detail he _knew_.

He _knew_ that flying at an angle would split the lift between the rotors and the wings. Otto had designed all of this, and no doubt so had the creator of Adrian’s original wings. But actually feeling it, feeling the raw power of the rotors pushing him upright when they warmed up and began to push him off the ground was so, so much different.

The rotors can’t be heard but Otto feels the incredible power behind them as they push him completely upright and off of the ground within seconds. 

He realizes he’s hovering then. His heart races, but a voice in the back of his head reminds him; _The rotors automatically adjust, you’re fine, whatever you do they’ll compensate to keep you in the air._

Otto takes in a deep breath, telling himself to trust his own tech, trust his own genius. The same genius that considered his subconscious desires to tear apart his professor rather than his rational desires to do the opposite.

Maybe right now wasn’t the best time to be thinking about that.

“Just hold the talon harness steady, Rhino!” Otto shouts as he carefully tilts forward. The rotors tilt in turn to adjust, and he hovers over the pavement awkwardly. 

Rhino is holding up the large horizontal harness that Otto had designed. It’s almost shaped like a bobby pin, but wider, with grooves to lock the talons into place so the cargo wouldn’t slip if Adrian had to make sudden movements in the air. 

Otto was quickly finding out, as he tried time and time again to swat the harness with his foot, that foot-eye coordination wasn’t a skill that came naturally. Of course, his actual feet being a few inches shorter than the actual exo-boot made it harder. He had to compensate for a tiny bit of space he was forgetting wasn’t there. 

After several clumsy tries, he finally gets one talon in, then the other. They lock into place automatically, and Rhino gives him a thumbs up to confirm everything is secure and ready to move.

 _The old man can do it. If he can do it, you can do it. You are strong. You are independent. You are capable._ Otto recites in his head as he prepares to activate increase the RPM of the turbines. 

_You read that in a self-help book in prison but that doesn’t make it any less valid._

The wings do their job, and most of it is making up for the fact that Otto is _terrified_ and can’t steer for shit. Adding to some salt in _that_ particular wound is that he designed the steering controls himself. 

Otto has never believed that fear is a good motivator. In fact, it’s a terrible one. The worst one. People panic, just like he’s panicking now. They screw up, just as he’s screwing up repeatedly much to his own embarrassment. 

Still, despite it all, he does manage to fly the wing rig back to the headquarters. They make it back before Kravinoff – no surprise – but aren’t able to beat the rain. Throughout the entire trip, rain has been pelting Otto in the face. 

No doubt Kravinoff and the old man had been caught in the rain too. Which meant Toomes would have to pull through major blood loss _and_ possible hypothermia. 

Otto carefully hovers over the parking lot while Mac directs him back to the drop-off point. Four semis are parked in the lot, with more of Mac’s old prison friends who are supposed to be helping out with the whole organization. 

The number of men and women Mac has gathered to be his ‘help’ worries Otto. Just how many people did Gargan have connections with? How many of these thugs had their been _before_ the 2nd incident?

(He’d pitched out names for what to call what had happened. So far the only thing that had stuck was ‘2nd Incident’. Everything else from the ‘Ashening’ to ‘Dusting-Day’ had been met with a chorus of resounding ‘No!’s)

The whole crew of thugs and drivers is all camped out near and inside of the semis. Otto had refused to let them inside, citing that the equipment within was far too dangerous to just let a bunch of street thugs hang around by. Gargan had grudgingly agreed and forced them to reside near the semis.

That didn’t make Otto any new friends, but he wasn’t going to let them wreck any of his hard work. Kravinoff and Rhino would have his back. Toomes too. If Toomes was even alive by tomorrow morning.

Gargan gives him a thumbs up from the ground, signaling he can set down the cargo safely. Otto carefully eases down the net, Rhino jumping off a few feet from the ground and clearing the landing zone. 

Once the drums of oil are on the ground, Otto lands the wings back in their supports. Rhino helps him out of the harness and exo-legs, and he breathes a loud sigh of relief once the uncomfortable metal is unlatched from around his calves. 

Rhino slaps him on the shoulder so hard that it almost sends him flying.

“You did such good job! Good job!” 

Otto laughs nervously, forcing an uncomfortable smile. 

_I am never doing that shit again._


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing Toomes feels is foggy. This is followed by variations of foggy. Painful foggy. Sharp foggy. Grimy foggy. Painful and sharp foggy. It’s like trying to surface in a pool when the water is made out of sand. He keeps trying to surface anyway, becoming more aware of his body and his surroundings before he can bring himself to open his eyes.

He’s inside, he knows that much. Dry and warm. The only sounds he can make out are someone moving around nearby, and the quiet, occasional flicks of a book page. 

Fading in and out of a shallow, lucid sleep, it isn’t another hour at best until Adrian manages to open his eyes. The lights are dimmed and the darkness is easy to adjust to. 

A small light from nearby grabs his attention.

Straining to turn his head, he sees Rhino a few feet away. The man is hunched over a book, engrossed in it. A small table lamp is all he has to illuminate the pages.

Adrian croaks out his name and Rhino shoots up from the chair, at his side in a second. He grabs Adrian’s hand in his own, squeezing it tightly.

“You’re awake!” He shouts, causing Adrian to wince. 

Rhino turns his head and shouts back into the warehouse, “HE’S AWAKE! DOC COME OVER!”

Soon the pudgy 20-something is shuffling his way around various crates, making a bee-line for the table that Adrian is on. When he sees Adrian the man is stuck between impressed and incredulous. 

“I’m gonna be honest.” He mutters, “I thought you were just gonna be a vegetable.”

Adrian yawns at him in response, resting back down and weakly tugging a cover up to his chin. Otto frowns, huffing and moving closer to the old man.

“Uh? I think I deserve a ‘thank you’ at the very least?”

Rhino’s voice rings out, “Kravinoff did blood transfusion. And I was donor!”

“I still helped!”

Adrian tunes them out and is soon back asleep. Otto and Rhino argue on for a while until they hear his snores. Sharing glares, the two go silent. Otto returns to his work elsewhere, and Rhino returns to his book.

~

It takes Adrian three more days of constant rest before he can get up and walk around again. His walk is more of a limp, but the Doc was nice enough to make him some makeshift crutches to get around on for now. 

It’s Rhino who tells him it was Kravinoff who knew how to do the procedure. Kravinoff who tested his blood and found Adrian’s blood type – but more importantly, that Rhino was a universal donor. Adrian sniffs him out the moment he’s back on his feet and finds the hunter perched on top of a crate, cleaning his favorite sniper rifle.

“Hey.” Adrian calls, craning his head back. Kravinoff is laying on the crate like a proud lion on his favorite rock, stretched out and lazy in the mid-afternoon.

Kravinoff greets him with a grunt and a nod. No surprise there. Adrian can tell he’s not a guy who would appreciate a ‘thank you’, so he settles for something else.

“I owe you one.”

Another grunt. Another nod. Mutual understanding. Adrian returns a short nod and is on his way.

As he’s wandering back to his own little corner amid the crates, something tall and silvery catches his eyes. Hobbling awkwardly on his crutches, Adrian manages to weave around the jungle of stolen equipment. Waiting for him is an enormous silver and black suit that is being suspended by several chains from the ceiling. It reminds Adrian of the Hulkbuster armor that had shown up in Johannesburg, but slimmer in design. 

Apart from being more humanoid shaped, with a narrower waist and longer legs, the suit has a strange, boxy head with a large horn fashioned out of thick metal plating on the top.

The little shit really made it into a fucking Rhino.

He couldn’t blame it all on the kid. They were growing up with their Thors and their Iron Men, it was bound to rub off on everything they did. Hell, as long as the suit worked – and he was sure it would – it wasn’t his place to pass judgment. He’d accepted Vulture after a while and had just ran with it too.

“Pretty badass right?” Otto asks, approaching him from behind, moving up to stand beside him.

Adrian nods, looking at the Rhino suit. “So what’s he supposed to do in that thing? Punch bank vaults?”

“Well, yeah – that’s where they keep stuff. You give us air superiority but we’re still just a bunch of guys otherwise. You might be able to fly off to safety but Rhino and Gargan can’t. This Rhino suit will be the bulldozer that clears the way for any future heists. Entry and exit won’t be cause for issue. Plus, he can lift several tons with this armor. No more hauling or dragging around on the ground level.”

“You’re really buying into all this stuff?” Adrian asks, lowering his voice as he looks over at Otto. “You really think we’re gonna have some kind of long term hold on a city?”

The young man seems surprised at his question, and not entirely sure what to say in response. He glances back and forth, a bit nervous under Adrian’s long stare, before answering quietly.

“Well...yeah. I mean...look at how the world is now. Things aren’t going back to normal. If they were, they would have by now, don’t you think? There’s less and less radio chatter from cops every day. They’re realizing, and rightly so, that things aren’t getting better.”

Adrian sniffs, shrugging and taking out a pack of gum from his pocket, sticking a piece into his mouth. “After all the shit we’ve seen...monsters comin’ out of the sky, Thunder gods, giant wheel things hangin’ over New York...I think we’re kidding ourselves if we’re ever gonna assume something _isn’t_ possible at this point. That includes things going back to normal. That includes Iron Man and Thor and all their heavy hitters suddenly showing back up like they were just on a short vacation.”

Otto listens, and for once, doesn’t have a quick response. He mulls over Adrian’s words, considering them for a while as he stares at the Rhino suit he’s spent days slaving over. 

“I mean, you might be right.” He relents, voice hushed. Otto glances around them to make sure no one is listening in before he looks back at Adrian and speaks in a whisper.

“I didn’t want this, you know? What happened..I...didn’t want it to happen. I really didn’t. But it happened, and I’m here now, and there’s no way out except Gargan’s way.”

“That’s not a way out, that’s just digging yourself deeper in.”

“I know, I know that. But what’s the alternative? Try to live a normal life? There is no normal. Half the world is gone, the other half is barely capable of functioning. Go back to Sing Sing?” Otto chuckles at the prospect of that, but Adrian can see the pain on the kid’s face. “I’m never going back there. Do I look like a fighter to you? Gargan was the only reason I didn’t wind up in the prison morgue, and he did it for the express purpose of me having to owe him down the line. A few months later, the 2nd Incident happens...and here we are.”

“Here we are.” Adrian echoes. “You ever think about trying to find your family?”

At the very mention of ‘family’, Otto gains a hard, cold expression and shakes his head. That’s all Adrian needs to see to know to not bring that subject up again.

“What’s Gargan got on you?” Otto asks after a while, “What’s keeping you here?”

“All he’s got on me is a killswitch, kiddo. You think I wouldn’t be taking those wings cross-country right now if I didn’t have that hanging over my head? Gargan suspects it. He’s not stupid.” Adrian pauses, then narrows his eyes at Otto, leaning forward. “If you lend me a hand, I can get both of us untied from this web he’s trapped us in.”

Adrian gives Otto a pointed look, but the kid just stares back at him. It takes him a moment, but he seems to pick up what Adrian is implying. He quickly shakes his head then, swallowing.

“No,” He whispers angrily, “Absolutely not. We do anything to Gargan and his army of criminal BFFs are going to come after us.”

“Then deactivate the kill switch and we can both get out of here. I’ll get you out, Otto. Trust me kid, this isn’t a life you were made for!” Adrian whispers fiercely.

“The kill-switch is too deep inside of the wings to just deactivate. You’d have to take them apart. Besides, I’m not just going to risk my own well being here. You think I trust you to actually help me? You’re a criminal, a career criminal for that matter. This is our reality now, and you need to get used to it, _Vulture_.”

Adrian sneers at him, sucking air through his teeth. Well, he tried.

“Just get used to having your head on a swivel, kid.” He mutters, then glances back at the Rhino suit. “Did he have you install a killswitch on that suit too?”

Otto pauses, the briefest look of shame moving across his face. “...Yeah.”

“What about your arms? The ones you made?”

“No!” Otto says, a little louder than he means to. He quickly quiets down, glaring at Adrian. “Those are some of the finest pieces of work I’ve ever done, I’d never-”

“He’s just gonna find a different sword to string over your head, kid.” Adrian interrupts, waving a hand in the air between them. “Trust me. Men like Gargan know how to exploit people. You might be enjoying this little science session because he’s giving you all the tools and materials you need to make this stuff...but you’re making it for him. The arms are yours, sure. But they’re so he can achieve his own ends with your help. None of this is charity, kid. Nothing’s for free.”

“Don’t call me ‘kid’, and I know that, Toomes. I’m not stupid. But I’m here – and I’m...I’m sticking with Gargan. Like I’d ever get a chance to create these things otherwise. Things might not work out exactly according to plan, but there’s nothing waiting for me out there that’s better than this.”

Adrian watches him for a while before relenting, inclining his head to Otto and turning, leaving the kid and the masterpiece he’s created by themselves.

~

Adrian sits out for the majority of the work needed for the big move. The loading of the equipment is left to the others, mainly Rhino. 

Otto had presented the Rhino suit to him, fully completed, and Adrian had barely seen Aleksei out of it since. The man _adored it_. The raw power it gave him was almost scary, but at least it was in the hands of someone that Adrian felt he could trust. He’d have been much more worried if it had been Gargan in that suit.

The whirring gears and intricate machinery of the Rhino suit barely make a sound as it carries crates in and out of the warehouse. It’s certainly a masterpiece, there’s no doubt about that. Aleksei had taken a few hours to really get used to it, but Otto had called it idiot-proof. Whether Otto’s description was correct or not, it didn’t matter. Aleksei had gotten the use of it down as if he’d been born for the thing.

As the others worked, Adrian struggled with his recovery. He was old, and only getting older, and he had to be honest with himself that injuries like gunshot wounds – even superficial ones – were going to take more out of him than they would have ten, or even five years ago. 

Otto had been kind enough to create a leg brace for him, something he whipped up in a day. He’d said several times that he had just been extraordinarily bored and it had nothing to do with him feeling bad about Adrian having to hobble around on crutches. The leg brace isn’t half bad – it’s small and slim, fits perfectly and takes the majority of the stress from his leg and knee. 

Adrian really feels his age when he says it makes him feel like Mad Max and Otto just stares at him, shrugging.

“You know, Mad Max right? He always had a leg brace because in the first movie-”

“He wore a leg brace? Wait - There’s more than one Mad Max? I thought Fury Road was the only one.”

“What?!” Adrian thanks God that Mason isn’t here to hear this. The man would’ve had a coronary right there from someone even daring to not understand the masterpiece that was the Road Warrior. “Come on – Road Warrior, Thunderdome? Even the first one isn’t half bad, it’s just real low budget. These are staples of cinematic culture.”

“Hearing the words ‘cinematic culture’ even come out of your mouth is weird. You sound like a plumber talking about genetic engineering. I can’t take anything in regards to the arts or culture seriously when you say it.”

“Doris used to love movies. She got me really hooked on the ones she loved, she’d talk about them for hours. Sometimes we’d sit out on the back porch and just chat and...” Adrian trails off, realizing that Otto is beginning to look uncomfortable.

The conversation reaches an awkward halt there, and Otto gives a weak smile and nod before quickly shuffling off. 

Adrian realizes that he’s speaking about Doris in the past tense now. He shrinks back to his corner and remains there for the rest of the day. His injury had provided him temporary distraction, but now the thoughts return anew. The sting, and the dread are as fresh and as terrible as they had been when he first felt them. 

Looking around the warehouse, Adrian’s blood runs cold and he feels an awful tug in his chest.

_Just run – just run for the wings. If you can fly fast enough, maybe you can get far enough away and the kill switch signal won’t reach you._

Fear and worry is quickly replaced by rage. Rage at Gargan for the kill switch, for knowing that he would have to keep Adrian in check otherwise of course he would’ve ran.

The wings are the only practical way he’d ever be able to cover the ground to try and find Doris and Liz. Gargan was taking that chance from him. Gargan was tearing away any opportunity he’d have to try and find his wife and daughter, if they were still alive. 

He’d buried the hatred and impatience and sheer poison he felt toward the man and he had to force himself to keep doing so. But he knew – as any good opportunist did – that an upcoming change meant new chances he could benefit from. As ridiculous as he thought Gargan’s wish to run a criminal organization in the heart of a broken city was, it still presented Adrian with the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

Pulling his jacket tighter around himself, Adrian sank his face down into the thick, soft fur collar. The long fur rose to cover the lower half of his face as he stared across the newly empty warehouse. 

Mac Gargan stood near the door, talking with two of his thugs, laughing with them as they joked around. No doubt they were all excited to get to New York City. Excited for the criminal opportunities they were going to succeed in with the technology that Adrian and Kravinoff had labored to retrieve. 

_Go ahead and laugh,_ Adrian seethed as he stared at Gargan. His back was to the corner of his little space in the warehouse, and the lighting inside had been dimmed. He was easily hidden and could’ve just as easily been mistaken for sleeping. But he wasn’t. He was watching, and he was waiting. When Gargan was at his most vulnerable, when he least expected it, when he needed a helping hand the most – Adrian would strike.


	9. Chapter 9

Gargan’s a jackass. Adrian knows this. Hell, if he could have ‘Mac Gargan is a jackass’ branded onto his chest, he’d do it in the heartbeat. Adrian Toomes would take a dirt nap letting every soul know how much he hated Mac Gargan.

 

That didn’t stop the assault on the Avengers Tower he had planned from being any less badass.

 

The attack on Avengers Tower (The name ‘The Tower Formerly Known as Avengers’ had been deemed too long, even though everyone got the joke) had taken weeks of planning. Adrian had been on the mend during those weeks, and was now back to his old self. He was doubly glad for it, considering that Otto had been thinking about training someone else to use the wings if Adrian hadn’t recovered in time.

 

He had to wonder if sheer spite and jealousy of someone else donning his wings had helped speed up the healing process.

 

It had taken two more weeks to get everything moved into position. Otto and Gargan were the masterminds behind the logistics of it, although now and then they would go to Adrian for advice on how he could implement aerial support. It surprised him that Gargan would ask him for his advice at first, but the man seemed genuinely want to hear what Adrian had to say.

 

Of course none of them had the experience Adrian had when it came to aerial logistics, so it wasn’t a complete mystery, but Adrian was beginning to suspect that Gargan was much more shrewd than his first impression let on. This relieved Adrian, but also made him nervous. The kill switch was proof that Gargan probably saw through his own false motivation of greed. No doubt there were other bits of insurance that Gargan had gotten for himself to ensure none of the others betrayed him, hidden away somehow that only he knew.

 

Adrian hated himself for not just flying off, but that voice in his head was always there, reminding him why he couldn’t.

 

_Gargan will wait until you’re high enough and flip the kill switch. You will fall and die, and even if Liz or Doris are alive, you’ll be too dead for it to matter._

 

A car was out of the question as well. The gas stations had gone dry a good month ago, with diesel being a hot commodity that was now worth killing over.

 

“Is like Mad Max!” Aleksei had shouted after Adrian had made the observation one evening.

 

It was. The whole world had gone from costumed bozos dropping entire cities to people grouping up to protect precious resources with guns, knives, and whatever else they could scrap together. Some wild west shit. Real Road Warrior stuff.

 

They were living the dream now, if that’s what you wanted to call it.

 

Adrian didn’t know what to call it, even on good days. Even on days when thoughts of Liz being caught up in all of this didn’t make him want to go straight for Gargan’s throat. He couldn’t, even if he tried. Mac was never without some of his guys around, his loyal thugs from jail and before that, people who know it was better to be at his side than in his way. They’d drop Adrian in a heartbeat if he tried anything.

 

The rage was just below the surface. Utter fury at being denied the chance to find his girl, his wife – the two people he’d loved more than life itself. He’d kept it deep inside, buried, waiting. Some of it he was saving for Gargan, for when the time was right.

 

Right now was for the rest.

 

Avengers Tower had been a hot piece of real estate once New York City had gone to complete shit. As civilians and just regular folks fled, criminals and gangs struggled for turf. Avengers Tower was seen as a beacon – as a trophy. If you had a criminal enterprise in New York City – which there was no shortage of – Avengers Tower was the icing on the cake. The ultimate poker hand when it came to pissing contests. An arc reactor keeping the lights on was awfully nice too.

 

Adrian could see why Gargan wanted it. Hell, part of Adrian wanted it to. He was tired of living in a warehouse. If Mac Gargan was going to press gang him into his criminal endeavors, he might as well be forced to cooperate with a great view and natural sunlight.

 

But all of that – the view, the space, the natural light – it could wait. First they had to clean out the rather large group of criminals that were currently calling it home.

 

Adrian wasn’t sure who these people were; they didn’t wear anything to identify themselves with. Black ski masks, black tactical gear, a few variations here and there. If Adrian had to guess, they were probably some kind of Hydra-branch leftovers who saw a good opportunity to try and gain some turf. He’d heard word that there were a good number that had gone into hiding after the Triskelion incident that were keeping themselves underground.

 

He wasn’t a saint, but Adrian liked to avoid Hydra leftovers when he could. They were few and far between, but whenever the mention came up for an arms deal, Mason always convinced him to pass. Back then of course, before Pedro, he could afford to pass up a deal here or there. Adrian would have happily cut a deal with them had Mason not been there to say otherwise.

 

“They’re seriously, like, looney-tunes whacko boss. Sci-fi Nazi lizard-people Illuminati stuff.” Mason had warned him.

 

“This from ‘Chemtrails are real, man’? Give me a break.” Adrian had snorted, but Mason hadn’t let up. He’d always had a much stronger moral compass than Adrian – for someone who designed homemade alien weapons. Adrian had dropped a cement ceiling on a teenager after all, and had felt at least 90% justified in doing so. Mason had felt bad for cutting someone off on the highway.

 

_Well Mason_ , Adrian thought to himself as he circled the tower, _if there is some kind of afterlife, you’d better give me some good karma for all these Hydra squatters I’m about to kick off a building._

Right now Rhino was storming up from the ground floor. The elevators had been disabled, meaning poor Aleksei had to climb up each flight on foot. Luckily the suit made it so easy to get up the steps – as Aleksei had happily exclaimed several times at this point. Gargan and Kravinoff were struggling to keep up with him, but the Rhino suit was a little too good at its job of crashing through any and all obstacles. Several times they’d called over the comm for him to slow down so they could climb over the wreckage he’d left behind.

 

Gargan’s ‘men’, if they were going to be official – were left to clean up the aftermath.

 

Discount Hydra, as Otto had dubbed them, had claimed the top ten floors, but were in the middle of their own little turf war with some kind of high-end organized criminal front that Adrian wasn’t familiar with. Could’ve been the Italians, or the leftovers from Hell’s Kitchen. There were so many groups and factions within the city that even with half the world gone, they were still a force to be reckoned with.

 

“ _Guys on the bottom floors aren’t packing any Hydra tech but I think I saw some Hammer shit on a guy near the door. Try not to crush everyone, Rhino, we could get some good leftovers from this._ ” Gargan’s voice crackled over the comm.

 

“ _Bah_!” Rhino exclaimed over the comm.

 

Adrian chuckled to himself. Mama Rhino didn’t raise a quitter, that was for sure.

 

Staring through the HUD on his new helmet, Adrian could see an X-ray of the building and a large white dot steadily moving toward the top. Beneath him were two smaller dots, a green one for Gargan, and an orange one for Kravinoff. Otto really put all the bells and whistles onto his ‘new’ suit.

 

The wings were the same, but Otto had insisted on more armored portions for his core and legs to prevent what had happened at New Paltz. He’d done the work for the suit while Adrian recovered, and Toomes couldn’t complain a damn bit. He’d been skeptical about the black, clawed gloves that Otto had given him. The ‘talons’ at the end of each finger were sharp and slick black crescents just waiting to dig into someone’s flesh.

 

“Pull on a talon and there’s a switch inside of them. It’s sturdier and more reliable than just the touch-technology that went into your last one.” Otto had explained when Adrian had given him a look of confusion. “Besides, we have Rhino, Gargan and Kravinoff for ground support. You’re our eyes in the sky, for precision strikes and more tactical work. Let the meat shields do what they do best and sponge the bullets up while you wait for the right moment to land a decisive blow.”

 

“This isn’t World of Warcraft, Otto – I see your point, but, I’d still feel way better with some kind of sidearm with me while I’m out there. One that I can use with these...fantastic nails.” Adrian had muttered, pulling his new gloves on. The black talons were an inch and a half long each. He tried, and failed, to curl his hand and make a fist.

 

“First of all, I don’t play World of Warcraft, and I never would have, PC games-”

 

“Just get me a damn gun Otto.”

 

Boy did he. Adrian’s sidearm was a custom bit of Chitauri tech that Otto had slapped together while riding in the convoy they’d taken down into into the city. For a gun built in the back of a moving RV camper, it was a sleek bit of work. It was built to resemble a pistol, with the trigger guard removed and the grip customized to fit in his gloves. Having it at his side made Adrian feel safer, even when his job was to stick to the air.

 

Which he was doing, to his credit. Adrian could follow orders.

 

Rhino was still charging his way up, floor after floor, through gunfire and the occasional grenade. Most floors towards the top were empty. They’d attacked during an apparent stalemate between the two forces. The last of the heavily armed squatters they had to deal with were no doubt at the top, waiting for Rhino.

 

“ _Vulture do a visual on the top five floors and the landing zone – check for anything suspicious._ ” Otto called out over the comm.

 

“ _Got it._ ”

 

Swooping closer toward the large helipad that stuck out of the side of the tower, Adrian tugged at a talon to switch his visual displays. The helmet was a mix of gutted Iron Man tech with an F-35 helmet. Otto never disappointed, and the changes gave Adrian a level of situational awareness that he hadn’t even thought possible.

 

He missed his old helmet, truth be told, it was much lighter and less bulky. But, Otto was determined that improvements were needed constantly, not occasionally. He wasn’t happy with any of his creations, even the ones he loved. The kid could never be satisfied.

 

Adrian didn’t have any arguments despite missing his old, familiar tech, but that was just him being nostalgic.

 

As he flipped through the various views that the high tech helmet provided, he checked for any signs of heat signatures, explosives, or chemicals that might indicate some sort of trap set up. Hydra, even discount Hydra, were pretty quick on the uptake. Adrian was sure they’d put up a hell of a fight.

 

“ _I’m seeing..._ ”

 

He counted at least twenty heat signatures as he circled around, but a few were blobbed together – so no doubt it was a few guys crouching near each other.

 

“ _We’ll go with 25, but there’s probably more. They might be packing some heavy artillery Doc, Rhino shouldn’t charge in there by himself._ ”

 

“ _Yeah well, tell that to Rhino._ ” Otto muttered. “ _Vulture, coordinate with Rhino. You got enough space to swoop in?_ ”

 

“ _I’ll make space. Rhino, got that? Wait for the others before you charge in there. They’ve got heavier ordinance than the thugs downstairs._ ” Adrian ordered, flying between two tall buildings.

 

It was eerie, flying in the city when it was almost all blacked out. A few buildings still had power, either by a heavily guarded generator or part of the grid that had somehow maintained itself through all of this hell. Those were on the mainland though. On Manhattan, Avengers Tower was the last lit building in any direction.

 

The night vision on his helmet made the lazy circles he’d been flying in around Avengers tower to be remarkably simple. He’d taken a few seconds to switch it off, and it was complete and utter blackness. The city was an ocean of reflections. Reflections along the glass windows of so many dark skyscrapers that stood, gutted and empty in the moonlight.

 

He’d switch the night vision back on quickly, lest he crash straight into an unlit building.

 

He watched as Rhino’s marker moved further up the x-ray view of the tower, nearly to the helipad floor. Discount Hydra had barricaded themselves there, and Adrian was growing nervous. The helipad made him worry for Rhino. The suit made him strong and bulletproof, but not fall-proof.

 

Adrian squinted, flying closer to the helipad, covered by darkness. He tried to focus on some kind of strategy to keep Rhino away from that helipad, or what to do in case Discount Hydra were able to push him off.

 

He could catch him, of course – but that meant he had to be doubly careful that he didn’t get caught up in the fight if he had to dive after Rhino at a moment’s notice.

 

“ _Vulture! Tell him to slow down! He listens to you!_ ” Otto barked over the comm.

 

Adrian swung away from the helipad, circling around and looking at Rhino’s marker, which had reached the helipad floor. Gargan and Kravinoff were several floors beneath him. They were moving, but there was no way they’d be able to reach him in time to back him up.

 

“ _Rhino_ ,” Adrian called, circling just beneath the helipad floor in quick circles. “ _You need to wait for the others! You understand me?_ ”

 

“ _Suit will protect me!_ ” Aleksei shouted back. Adrenaline and a feeling of nigh-invincibility no doubt were doing wonders for the man right now. “ _No worries, Vulture – watch me work!_ ” He laughed over the comm before shutting it off.

 

_Shit_.

 

“ _Doc, I’m going to do a bit of lawn mowing before Rhino gets himself blown up_.”

 

“ _Be careful_.”

 

“ _Yes mom_.”

 

Checking the map one last time, Adrian could see Rhino at the end of the hall, preparing to charge. The red-dots had all begun to move, no doubt preparing for the attack. Adrian took note of their locations, then switched the view to just enhanced night vision. No more grid, no more 3D overlays or fancy views. Just the world in front of him in various shades of bright green.

 

Adrian flew up the remaining length of the building. Once he reached the top, he swung backward to perform a wide loop. The loop brought him up and around, then turned him back around until he was flying straight for the helipad.

 

He could see six of them – heavily armed, huddled back behind large crates, waiting. One of them had some kind of rocket launcher on him, the others were packing grenade launchers, and…

 

_Was that a fucking mortar!?_

 

_No no, that was **twelve** mortars._

 

Go big or go home, Adrian supposed. Discount Hydra wasn’t playing around. He had faith in Otto’s designs, but he wasn’t sure that Aleksei himself, stuck inside of the suit, could handle the impact of mortar fire.

 

Well, time to make sure Aleksei wouldn’t have to deal with it in the first place.

 

Adrian saw a large window on the other end of the floor that he was about to fly straight into. That was good enough, as long as he had an exit route, he could usually play this by ear. He quietly thanked Tony Stark for being a fan of enormous, wall sized windows. It made flying through entire buildings much easier.

 

Speeding forward, the first fly-through was just seconds, but they were seconds of utter chaos and confusion for everyone else. The Hydra men that had been crouched down near the helipad were the first to be caught in the path of his wings. Various crates were in his way as well, and they were sliced in half just as easily.

 

As he tore through the room, he managed to briefly glance to his left – over to the actual doorway. He could see rows of charges planted around the door frame. Adrian was moving so fast that he only caught a glimpse of them, but he knew in an instant what he’d seen.

 

Wrapping his wings around himself, he ducked his head and burst through the window at the opposite end of the room. The glass shattered into tiny pieces, showering down beneath him as he spread his wings back out and began to circle back around for another pass.

 

“ _Rhino, they’ve rigged the door to blow, don’t-_ ”

 

Adrian could feel the explosion, even from up in the air. A split second later as he turned to face the building again, he could see the bright flames, appearing white in his night vision. They centered at the door, where either Rhino had tripped some kind of wire or they’d just detonated them by hand.

 

“ _Rhino_?” Adrian called over the comm.

 

No response, only static.

 

Adrian didn’t consider himself a man quick to anger, at least before the 2nd Incident. But, that was then, and this was now.

 

Sweeping around, he began his 2nd attack. This time, heading straight for the window that he’d burst through earlier. He could see three of them standing upright, firing at something. Hopefully that meant Rhino was still alive, just with a knocked out comm.

 

Wrapping his wings around himself, he soared through the huge shattered window, spreading them wide and letting the downwash from the rotors blast across the room. It wasn’t too powerful, but it was enough to distract the Hydra soldiers.

 

The three soldiers paused, but only for a moment. They quickly turned and began to fire. Adrian felt a bullet bounce off of his leg armor just before he brought a wing in front of him to deflect the rest. Keeping the wing wrapped around himself protectively, he still had enough lift to propel himself forward and into the trio of soldiers.

 

The men tried to back up, but he was upon them within seconds. Sweeping his wing off to the side, he knocked them back to the ground, deep cuts from the wings slicing across their arms and torsos. They were still alive, grasping for their guns or trying to crawl away.

 

Good.

 

Adrian dropped down, all of his weight falling on two of them. His talons dug down into the sides of either of the Hydra soldiers he’d landed on, while he bent down and dug his talons deep into the neck of the third one.

 

Otto was right, these things were handy. A little avante garde for Adrian’s taste, but, hell – more people knew him as Vulture than his actual name at this point. Might as well run with it.

 

Rotors blasting, Adrian flew forward, lifting off of the floor and flying over the open helipad. The men squirmed and tried to free themselves to no avail – but grew remarkably still once they realized he’d flown them off the side of Avengers tower.

 

He released all three without fanfare, without a snappy comment or anything witty to say. Adrian wasn’t much for quips. The men screamed, but the high winds drown the sound out quickly, and he was already thinking on the remaining soldiers.

 

Flying back toward the tower, he could clearly see Rhino charging through the burning door and smacking one of the remaining soldiers so hard that the man was sent flying straight through a window.

 

Relief washed over him, and Adrian tried his comm again.

 

“ _Rhino – you alright there buddy_?”

 

“ _Am fine! Explosion make things fuzzy for a little bit, better now_!”

 

“ _Push them towards the helipad, Rhino, I’ll pick them off._ ”

 

“ _Roger!_ ”

 

He snickered. Aleksei’s enthusiasm was contagious. The man was just so damn happy to be there. He probably would’ve been just as enthused if he wasn’t in the suit. Adrian imagined he would go about the task of storming Avengers tower with a fork with equal ardor.

 

Circling the helipad from above, it wasn’t long before Hydra soldiers began to fall back onto it, becoming more and more desperate as Rhino forced them back. Adrian briefly looked for the box of mortars he’d seen, relieved to see it was one of the boxes caught and shattered in his first attack.

 

Nearly thirteen discount Hydra were now cowering behind crates as Rhino held his ground and ensured none of them got back under the relative safety of the roof. Not that it had done them that much good before, but having them out in the open made Adrian’s job so, so much more pleasant.

 

Their attention entirely on Rhino, Adrian entered his attack run. Wings spread, metallic feathers gleaming in the dim light from the earlier explosion, he swept through them. Slicing bodies wasn’t even an effort for the wings. They could slice through glass, cement – even steel. What was a warm body compared to that? Nothing.

 

The remaining soldiers trained their fire on Adrian, but he dove down beneath the helipad and was gone from sight within seconds.

 

As he flew down the side of the tower, Adrian noticed tiny flickers of light on the night vision display. He squinted, then hit his comm.

 

“ _Is it raining?_ ”

 

“ _Just started._ ” Doc responded, “ _I think a storm is moving in, I heard some thunder earlier. Make sure nobody drops a house on you._ ”

 

“ _You’re funny_.”

 

Aleksei’s voice cut through then, “ _All soldiers on helicopter pad!_ ”

 

“ _Got it,_ ” Adrian responded, circling around to the back of the tower and flying up along it. He’d attack from above this time, no doubt they were expecting him from the side as he’d done before. “Just keep them in place, Rhino, I don’t want you to go close to the edge.”

 

Aleksei let out an annoyed grunt at being denied the chance to send more soldiers flying, but Adrian knew he’d listen to him.

 

Soaring up above the top of Avengers Tower, he did a lazy flip in the air. Facing down, he entered into a steep, rapid dive toward the helipad.

 

Stall at the last moment, sweep across the helipad and take out the rest.

 

Two of the soldiers caught glimpse of him, somehow. All of them followed suit – at least fifteen men, heavily armed, raising their guns to fire at Adrian. That threw a wrench into things. He was already so close to the helipad, his only option now was to do a deep stall. Turning was an option, but he knew by instinct he wouldn’t clear the helipad in time.

 

Not that Adrian had wanted Rhino to run out onto the helipad in that enormous suit, but he couldn’t complain either when he did. Charging through the bodies, Rhino sent several soldiers flying across the helipad and off into the darkness. The others focused their fire on him, but it was useless. The armor was so thick that machinegun fire didn’t even dent it.

 

With the soldiers no longer aiming their guns at him, Adrian entered the stall. Sweeping his legs forward, pulling his torso back, the angle of his wings shifted and the rotors took care of any residual force. He didn’t land so much as skid across the helipad – a happy accident thanks to the rain fall – and ended up colliding with a Hydra soldier head on.

 

The man was quick, and had a pistol drawn before Adrian could sink his talons into him. He fired four shots in rapid succession at Adrian, causing the man to flinch and jerk back. No pain – no warm blood down his body. He’d be sore in the morning, but the surprisingly thin body armor that Otto had forced him to wear did its job.

 

The soldier paused, realizing that his bullets hadn’t penetrated. He darted down to reach for one of the mortars that had been thrown from its crate.

 

As the soldier ran for the mortar, Adrian reached for his own sidearm, taking aim and firing once. The Chitauri gun flashed hot in his hand briefly before sending a shot at the soldier. It was like a miniature version of the gun he’d used on the ferry, two parallel rays of purple light forming a path for the ray of energy that cut the soldier down as he tried to reach the mortar.

 

Holstering the sidearm quickly, Adrian took back to the air. Rhino was much too close to the edge of the helipad for his comfort, and there was only a handful of Hydra soldiers remaining.

 

Adrian began to circle once more, watching as Aleksei held his ground in the center of the helipad. It seemed that even he was getting nervous about being so close to the edge. It must’ve been raining harder than Adrian realized. He couldn’t tell, not with the layers he was wearing. The wings covered most of his back, and his legs were in the talon boots.

 

“ _Hang tight there, Rhino, I’ll get the ones near the edge._ ” Adrian said, turning in for another dive.

 

A trio of soldiers was quickly mowed down, having tried to get cover behind some shattered crates and assemble a mortar.

 

Two more were thrown toward the edge as Adrian circled. Rhino had made quick but short charges to snatch up several nearby soldiers, and had hurled them toward the edge. Adrian was quick to snatch up the ones that didn’t fall off, and ensure that they did.

 

The process of getting rid of the rest of the soldiers took longer than Adrian had expected, but even with Rhino’s immense strength and speed, and his own aerial finesse, these discount Hydra men were a slippery, scrappy bunch who were holding on for dear life.

 

Not that it did them much good in the end. The last man standing was grabbed by Rhino, who threw him straight at Vulture to catch. Vulture hit the thrusters on his wings and sent the man face first into the nearest skyscraper.

 

“ _VICTORY!!!_ ” Aleksei shouted over the comm system.

 

Adrian winced, but couldn’t resist chuckling. Despite hating Gargan and this entire scheme to be some kind of criminal enterprise in the heart of New York, a win was a win.

 

Circling a few times over Rhino, Adrian saw the man raise his enormous, metal clad arm. Adrian hesitated, the wings were extremely heavy – but – Otto had said the lifting and load carrying capacity of the Rhino suit was some ridiculous number, so Adrian figured he could take the chance.

 

Carefully descending, he landed on Rhino’s raised fist, talons latching down around the enormous metal hand. Relaxing his weight, Adrian brought a wing up over Rhino to keep him from being pelted with rain.

 

Opening up a private comm line to Rhino, Adrian stared out at the pitch black city as he spoke.

 

“ _We did it buddy._ ”

 

“ _Victory!_ ” Aleksei repeated over the private comm, laughing. “We are good team, Vulture.”

 

“ _We are. Good job out there – but, next time, listen to Otto. The Doc knows what he’s talking about, you need to listen to him._ ”

 

Aleksei snorted over the comm. “ _He’s still kid, why should I listen to him? Snooty, tubby boy with bad hair and bad attitude._ ”

 

“ _Show some respect, he built your suit for you._ ”

 

“ _Pfeh. Built suit for himself. Built suit for Gargan. I get to wear it and do all the work. Is fun, sure, but – not doing it for me._ ”

 

Adrian tried to sound casual, moving carefully to sit on Rhino’s raised hand, wing remaining outstretched over them both.

 

“ _What’s Gargan got on you anyway, that’s keeping you here?_ ”

 

It was a risk. Aleksei could go run his mouth to Gargan about Adrian even asking, but at this point, he was willing to risk it.

 

“ _He friends with Russian mafia, run guns for them for five years or so, always dependable, always good at street level stuff. Get a nickname – Scorpion._ ”

 

“ _Because of the tattoo?_ ”

 

“ _No no, because of story. You hear of Scorpion and the Frog?_ ”

 

Adrian shook his head. “ _’Fraid I haven’t._ ”

 

Rhino offered his other hand to Adrian, the man hesitantly stepping on it, only to be lifted up onto an enormous armored shoulder. Sitting, Adrian brought up both wings around them like a protective dome. He could clearly see the rainfall through his enhanced vision now, which meant it must’ve been coming down in sheets.

 

Aleksei stood in the center of the helipad, staring out at the city through his own elaborate viewing system.

 

“ _Scorpion wants to cross a river, but can’t swim – will drown if he tries on his own. He meets a Frog, and the Scorpion tells the Frog, ‘Frog, swim us both over. I won’t sting you – if I did, we would both drown.’ So Frog agrees, and he lets Scorpion ride on his back, and they begin to cross river. Halfway across the river, Scorpion stings Frog, and as they begin to sink, Frog asks Scorpion why has he stung him, now they will both die. Scorpion just says that he cannot help it, it is his nature to sting._ ”

 

Adrian lifted the visor off completely, exposing his eyes to the natural light and air outside. The enormous black goggles that fit onto the helmet slid up and back to allowed him to see without impediment. The cool, light air hit his face and he could smell the rain in the air immediately. Even with the recycled air in his oxygen system, just a tiny bit of open space in his helmet let the familiar smell reach his nose.

 

“ _So how did that story get connected to Mac Gargan?_ ” Adrian asked as he leaned forward, relaxing on Aleksei’s shoulder.

 

“ _He was good gun runner for us, and bosses wanted to promote him, give him jobs with more responsibility. Several times they let him try – each time, he screw up. Temper, or violence – he could never negotiate without anger. Could never take no for answer. No matter what tailored suit he wear, what simple task they give him. Answer is always violence._ ” Aleksei paused, sighing. “ _He is smart man. Very smart. But – not good with people. Even worst of us need to negotiate deal now and then with both sides going home happy. Not Mac Gargan. He sting every frog that tries to help him across river._ ”

 

“ _I’m guessing he didn’t get a scorpion tattooed on his neck to remind himself of his own personal failures._ ” Adrian ventured.

 

“ _Heh – no. He hear men calling him Russian word for scorpion, asks what it means, never asked why. He thought it was compliment._ ”

 

“ _So has he got something on you that’s keeping you working for him?_ ”

 

Aleksei is silent for a while, but Adrian can hear another, smaller sigh across the comm.

 

“ _...Nothing else left. Gargan and I, sent to jail at the same time. Most other Mafia I knew in jail turned to dust, the rest tell me that there is no point in going back to old way of things. Feel lost, really. Where does person go from something like this? World falling apart all around us. Gargan is scorpion, but his plans give me purpose. Would be lost without something to do. Friends dead, maybe. Family dead, maybe. No way of knowing. No way of figuring out..what to do. But this is easy...do things to distract from thinking about things I cannot change._ ”

 

Adrian wasn’t sure if Aleksei would notice or even feel the hand that he placed on his shoulder, but he did it anyway.


	10. Chapter 10

“You think this is the table they all sat around and talked about big important Avengers stuff at?” Aleksei asked as he circled the large glass conference table.

 

“Probably where Stark screwed all of his secretaries.” Otto snorted as he sat down.

 

Aleksei gave the table a wary glance, but after a few moments of consideration he sat down as well. Adrian and Gargan joined them shortly afterward, with Kravinoff coming in last, red eyed and yawning.

 

“A little too early to be partying just yet, Kravinoff.” Gargan hissed, glaring at the man as he nursed his head. “We need to secure our territory, first and foremost. That means taking out any leftovers from the nearby blocks, scaring off any potential competition, and securing resources.”

 

Kravinoff looked like he had half a mind to punch Gargan for his tone, but he seemed to cool off the moment Mac started talking business. His plan for retaking the tower had, by all accounts, been a stellar success. They trusted him. Or at least, they trusted his ability to plan.

 

“I’m going to block off each of the next four weeks and divide up duties accordingly.” Gargan continued, taking out a slip of paper from his jacket pocket and unfolding it. He glanced at it briefly then spoke.

 

“Kravinoff, you’re in charge of establishing our new territory. Kick any looters or gangs or whatever else back at least by three blocks. If all they need is a friendly talk, great. If all they need is a bullet, great. I don’t care which, I want them out. I only want our guys to be the ones on the streets four weeks from now.”

 

Kravinoff’s bored expression perked up at the thought, a hungry smile splitting across his face.

 

“Otto, you’re in charge of figuring out how much juice the arc reactor powering this place has left. Once we find out that much, we gotta start plans on how to rig up a power system to the Chitauri tech once the arc reactor runs dry.”

 

Otto scoffed at that, “I’m not an electrician-” He paused at the glare that Mac was giving him, and quickly added, “But – but I’ll find one! I know a guy that might still be able to lend a hand!”

 

“Who?” Gargan asked.

 

“I went to school with him. His name’s Max – he’s...a little weird but he’s an electrician. Uh – a journeyman, but, he might – I mean – he-...that’s – that’s good I think – good enough..”

 

Adrian felt like he was watching the kid drown on his own words as Gargan just stared bullets into him. Might as well throw the poor kid a line.

 

“Journeyman ought to be fine.” He interjected, glancing at Gargan. “The arc reactor technology isn’t as hard as Stark likes to pretend it is.” _It was._ “It’s harder to set up a good stereo system than to just reroute a power supply.” _It wasn’t._

 

Oh it was ridiculously complex and complicated to run and maintain an industrial arc reactor, and took years of training, but who the hell was going to find a single ARC-trained and qualified electrician in New York after society had collapsed? They didn’t just have a bunch of electricians in boxes with a sign taped on that read ‘ _free to a good home_ ’.

 

“Well if he fucks up, that’s on you.” Gargan told Otto, who just exhaled in relief once he was off the hot seat.

 

“Aleksei, you’re on cleanup with Kravinoff.”

 

“Easy!” Aleksei exclaimed, leaning back in his chair, satisfied.

 

Finally, Gargan came to Adrian, gesturing at him. “That puts you in charge of resources. Water’s not running, so, we need potable water, and food, ammo, guns, fuel, all the good stuff. Water and food first though.”

 

“Hope you all like couscous and quinoa, because we’re going to be living on grains.” Adrian muttered. A collection of dissatisfied grumbles rose up from the group but Adrian ignored their weak protests.

 

“Four weeks. Kravinoff, Aleksei, get the blocks cleaned up around the tower. Otto, figure out our Arc reactor situation, get your electrician over here to help...and Adrian I guess you really don’t have a deadline, but have an inventory for me by the deadline.”

 

Everyone nodded, all of them already thinking about how to best approach their given tasks.

 

“Any questions?”

 

Every head at the table shook, and Gargan folded up his slip of paper and walked out.

 

Adrian sighed, still tired from sleeping on the floor. Potable water, food, and then a mattress for fuck’s sake. He was too old to be napping on a glass floor these days. He caught sight of Aleksei weaving his way around the table toward him and rubbed his eyes, trying to appear more awake.

 

“I have something to ask, is special request.” Aleksei whispered, although his whisper was more of a shout, nothing quiet about it. The entire room could no doubt hear him.

 

“Go ahead.” Adrian didn’t even bother to lower his voice.

 

“I need mattress.” Aleksei whisper-shouted, looking ashamed, “Floor is cold and hard and back is sore.”

 

Otto cleared his throat, looking between them with a matching look of shame upon his face. “...I too would...like a mattress.” He whispered quietly.

 

All eyes now turned to Kravinoff, who was staring at the trio from across the table. He was doing his best to appear disinterested, but the tiniest dip of his head indicated he was in the same boat as the other two.

 

“Anything else while I’m out? Beer? Chips? Hot dogs?” Adrian scoffed, crossing his arms.

 

“Yes please, all three!” Aleksei exclaimed, sounding desperately hopeful.

 

Adrian didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was being sarcastic, but Otto did.

 

“I might be able to get you all a few things here or there. Make a list, tape it on my door, and I’ll keep an eye out.” Adrian relented. “But I can’t make any promises. We’ll be lucky if we aren’t drinking rainwater by next month.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rounding up potable water and food was a hell of a chore.

 

Adrian was beginning to think that Gargan had given it to him purely out of spite. Logistically of course, it made perfect sense. He could fly, he was the fastest, and second to Rhino he was the most heavily armored.

 

_Still_.

 

It was long hours of searching through a mostly abandoned city, occasionally crossing into the burrows. But staring at rooftops yielded results. He began to learn what to look for. What signs of life on a rooftop meant that there were people inhabiting the place. Buckets left out for rainwater was the easiest sign. Spot a rooftop full of those, and he knew that the building had a permanent resident. A permanent resident meant a stockpile of food.

 

That’s where the details got uglier. Sometimes a good threat could shake a person out of their hole. If they complied without a fight he’d even leave them a few cans for their trouble. This was a rare, and almost always happened when the person was just either unarmed or had a good head on their shoulders. The doomsday preppers that had ‘seen it coming’ were the ones that Adrian got tense around. They always had firepower, and usually shot as soon as they saw him swooping by a window.

 

He’d gotten lucky with one of them. One had decided that the stockpile of food wasn’t worth his life. Or worth leaving his teenage son fatherless. Adrian had raided the stockpile of food but left the guns behind. It was the only way he could show the man gratitude for not forcing his hand to kill them both. He’d been glad it hadn’t come to that.

 

The rest of the doomsday nuts or greedy sons of bitches who’d stockpiled food from their deceased neighbors weren’t so eager to share. Adrian tore through their apartments and homes like a furious black wind. The suit made it so easy that he began pulling off dives and aerial maneuvers that he wouldn’t have ever dreamed of performing in his old wing rig.

 

Concrete, wood beams, bodies, steel and cement. The Chitauri-metal that formed the wings tore through them all like a searing hot knife slicing into an already warm stick of butter. Bullets ricocheted and bounced off of his armor. His helmet, for all of its cumbersome clumsiness, absorbed a few well placed bullets and he barely felt a thing.

 

In the four weeks Gargan had given him to collect food, Adrian had gathered enough to last the five of them all of three months. For five grown men, two of which had to maintain mountains of muscle, it was an enormous haul. But they’d need more. That of course, begged the question – how long could they keep living like this? How long until they were forced to leave their meaningless prize of a tower behind? No matter how many doomsday preppers littered New York and Jersey, it all came down to a simple fact. It couldn’t last forever.

 

Part of Adrian couldn’t see any reason in asking Gargan what his plans for the future were. That part of him was the part that lay in wait for simple revenge. There was another part of him however. That part was beginning to finally accept the fact that this might be his new life. He hated Gargan, but Aleksei and Otto had become friends. Adrian couldn’t lie to himself and pretend they were just business acquaintances anymore.

 

He felt torn.

 

There was the possibility of continuing this life if they left New York city and moved elsewhere. Society would eventually rebuild, but Gargan’s need to stay sedentary in a dying city with an evaporating population wasn’t going to do them any favors along the way. On the other hand, Adrian couldn’t completely bury the possibility that Doris or Liz could very well have survived. One of them, or even both, could be alive.

 

Adrian couldn’t ignore that either.

 

He flip flopped several ideas of how to move forward until a conclusion finally presented itself. Maybe it was time to reconsider Gargan. Maybe it was time to be completely honest with him about his need to find out the whereabouts of his family.

 

Mac didn’t trust him. Mac trusted Aleksei and Kravinoff and Otto, but he never got too close to Adrian, even when he wasn’t in his suit. He was expecting Adrian to strike at him, even though he’d done everything that Mac Gargan had asked of him. After risking his life multiple times, nearly dying during the New Paltz mission, spending weeks gathering food and resources, Gargan still didn’t trust him.

 

Adrian suspected that Gargan knew he was hiding something. If that was the case, better to get out in the open that his true concern was for his wife and daughter, and not some half-baked plan to kill Gargan and become the new king on the hill.

 

_Well, fuck it_ , he figured.

 

Adrian was a straightforward man. If a problem presented itself, he’d rather deal with it on his own.

 

Gargan was having his morning coffee when Adrian found him. He never wandered up to the helipad, which had been unofficially designated as Adrian’s floor. He never went too far up the building while Adrian was away on a mission either.

 

Funny that he was only realizing this now. Gargan’s patterns of avoiding the helipad deck and upper floors where Adrian resided had never really occurred to him until he’d had to go looking for him.

 

Looking up from his coffee and toast, Mac leaned back in his chair as Adrian sat across the table from him. Two of his thugs were nearby, both of them eyeing Adrian as they continued to chat over a pot of coffee.

 

“Can we talk?” Adrian asked, briefly glancing at the two by the door.

 

Gargan turned his head, jerking it toward the door. Without a word of argument, the two men shuffled out, leaving Gargan and Adrian alone.

 

Mac took a small sip of the steaming coffee. “What’s on your mind?”

 

Adrian cut right to the chase. “I know you don’t trust me.” Adrian ignored the brief bit of surprise that crossed Gargan’s face.

 

“I’m old but I’m not stupid Mac. I don’t trust you either. We’re criminals. You could probably count how many people you trust on one hand. Same goes for me. So I’m gonna be completely clean and honest with you here, and all that I ask is that you do the same. How’s that sound?”

 

Gargan stared at him with an empty expression. Adrian knew that there were some serious wheels turning behind those blank eyes. He finally nodded, and Adrian continued.

 

“When I got arrested, Doris and Liz – my wife and daughter – they moved to Oregon. I asked them to do it. The fucking media circus around me was going to be brutal. I didn’t want my baby getting swallowed up in that...I know you don’t care about any of this. I’m explaining it to you because I want you to understand where I’m coming from.”

 

Adrian paused, shifting in his chair. “I’m committed to this. I’m all in on this. On your plans, on Otto’s tech, on whatever you want to do here. I’m in this for the long haul, but I need something in return.”

 

It took an amount of courage Adrian hadn’t expected to voice his request. He realized the gravity of just what he was asking moments before he had to force it out.

 

“I just – with the wings, I’d just need a week. Going at full speed I can get there in less than a day. I just need to make sure my Liz is okay. I need to know if they’re both gone.”

 

Saying this out loud was so much harder than Adrian anticipated. He could feel his face growing hot just from finally saying it out loud. It was as if the dread and fear had all been ephemeral and floating in his mind like wispy, feathery clouds. As he made his request, and made the words real, the fears became heavy and concrete. It felt as if frigid, sharp stones were resting inside of his stomach, reminded him of the brutal reality set before him.

 

Gargan’s expression was unreadable for a long time. He only broke eye contact once to bring the cup of coffee up to his lips. Setting the mug down, he stared it at for a long time before finally answering.

 

“Otto’s picked up some radio chatter. The military is in the early stages or reorganizing itself and wants to reestablishing a presence. Two days ago one of my men spotted a Navy ship. I’m not a fuckin’ expert on boats but it has a bunch of guns on it and it’s heading into the harbor.”

 

Adrian didn’t know whether to feel hopeful that Gargan had just gone straight into his next plan or filled with dread. Was he just downright ignoring his request, or setting up some kind of deal?

 

“You take the crew out and keep the provisions and guns in tact – then you can have your little road trip to Oregon or Washington or wherever the fuck you think your kid is.”

 

Adrian couldn’t help himself and scoffed. “Mac – I mean – a Navy ship? That’s asking a little much don’t you think?”

 

“So is asking me to trust you with those wings all the way across the continental United-fucking-States. You’re my air support, you’re the only one in the team that can haul food or weapons without trouble. We give up our air support, we give up a huge part of what has made this work.”

 

“So, let me get this straight. You think sending me out to Oregon is more of a risk than setting me on a Navy ship? Gonna lose your air support real fast if some hot shot sailor gets a good hit in with a deck gun. This armor protects me from machine guns, not anti-aircraft missiles!”

 

Gargan just shrugged at him, indifferent.

 

Turning his head away in disgust, Adrian sneered. “You’re doing this out of spite, aren’t you?. You know what? Fine.” He stood up quickly, pointing at Gargan. “I’ll get your fucking boat taken care of. It’s not going to matter in the long run. You can’t seriously believe this whole thing we have going is gonna’ last.”

 

“What makes you think that?” Mac asked, composed and calm.

 

“We have to find somewhere with resources, somewhere people are gathering. If society is going to eventually rebuild, which – I mean – we all kinda figure that it eventually will...then what? What’s your plan?”

 

“I’m working on it.” Gargan responded quietly, which only angered Adrian further. “You’re assuming, incorrectly, that I haven’t thought a year ahead. Two years ahead. Five years ahead. We have no control over what’s going to happen. What we do have control over is how well we’re prepared for it. We need what’s on that ship. The rations, the firearms, raw materials for Otto’s lab. All of those resources can help us ensure our longevity when things do inevitably change.”

 

Adrian found himself torn. He hated to admit it, but Gargan wasn’t wrong. The amount of resources on the ship would be a huge boon. Still – attacking a Naval ship, head on, even with all the upgrades Otto had given his suit, was a suicide run.

 

“ _If_...and that’s one hell of an _If_...I’m able to do what you’re asking, the military will just send even more troops up here. They’ll strike back twice as hard.”

 

“That’s assuming they have the resources to strike back. It’s one boat. You’re assuming that other threats haven’t taken advantage of this unique situations. Other threats up and down the coast that the Navy might be spending more of their time and resources on. They might not be able to afford to send another ship up this way.”

 

“What if they can, and do? What if they send ground forces? We can repel criminals and gangs, but...a whole military force? We might win but I doubt we’d come out with everyone we went in with.”

 

Gargan stood up, taking his coffee with him as he headed to the kitchen sink. He poured the cup out and washed it clean, setting it on a small towel upside-down to dry.

 

“I’m sending you to do this because I know you’re completely capable of succeeding.” He said, turning to face Adrian across the kitchen.

 

Adrian was thunderstruck. Even if he believed Gargan was telling him this in complete honesty, he’d still find it hard to believe.

 

Mac headed toward the door, looking back at Adrian one last time.

 

“I could’ve just let you die, back when you got shot. Rhino and Otto vouched for you but, I couldn’t see the point. I figured, you were just some old guy. You were a big shot before you got locked up, sure...but anybody can learn to fly a pair of those wings.” He shrugged. “I was wrong. I’m man enough to admit a mistake. The shit I’ve seen you do, the balls that it takes to just get out there and do what you do, consistently, day after day, and not screw up...I respect that. I wouldn’t risk my most valuable asset on a job if I didn’t think you had the skill to pull it off.”

 

Gargan sent Adrian a pointed, knowing look. He then turned, and simply left. Leaving Adrian to stare at the door in complete shock.


	11. Chapter 11

Adrian looked over the wings for the fourth time that morning. He knew it was just nerves, but who wouldn’t be nervous in his shoes? How many people could say, even on a good day, that they felt they had what it took to pick a fight with an Arleigh-Burke class Naval Destroyer.

 

Otto had been kind enough to go spy and identify the type of ship that was sitting in the Navy yard. Naturally it was a Destroyer. When Adrian had asked Otto how many deck guns it had on it, he’d scoffed and said deck guns were the least of his worries.

 

“It’s some real pre-’boohoo weapons kill people’ Stark Industries shit. Before he started being such a bleeding heart.” Otto muttered distastefully. “These boats have a lot of missiles on them...and I know I’ve said this once, but I’m just gonna say it again. I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go by yourself.”

 

Adrian had rejected the idea then, and he was gearing up to do it again as he pulled on his pressure suit. He could hear Otto and Aleksei speaking loudly to each other as they walked toward the helipad deck. The two emerged just as he was clipping the thin body armor around his torso.

 

Looking up, Adrian saw there was a third man with them, one he didn’t recognize. He was hanging behind Otto and Aleksei as they yammered on. The man looked to be in his mid to late 20’s, with light brown skin and a clean shaven head. Tattoos ran along one side of his scalp, moving down his neck and beneath his collar. He carried himself with an apathetic swagger that one could only own if they absolutely meant it, and he meant it. He cast the briefest look at Adrian’s wings, which sat on their standing harness, black metal feathers splayed out far and wide. Whoever he was, he didn’t seem terribly interested in them.

 

Aleksei quieted down as Otto gestured back and forth between Adrian and the newcomer.

 

“Adrian this is Max. Max this is Adrian. Aka THE Vulture himself. Pretty cool, huh? It must be like meeting a celebrity or something.”

 

Max looked over at Adrian, his hands in his pockets, stifling a yawn. “Feels more like meeting some old guy, but whatever.”

 

What a little shit. Adrian liked him already.

 

“I hear you’re the one to solve our Arc reactor questions?” Adrian ventured, leaning his head down. Aleksei had begun to fix a black armored collar around his neck and clip it into place behind his head.

 

“That’s the story.” Max sighed, a hint of worry moving across his face.

 

Otto laughed nervously, slapping Max on the shoulder. “Well you better Max because Gargan will literally, completely, 100% kill the both of us if you don’t.”

 

Max grimaced, crossing his arms. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Fuck. I’d rather be back working up on the poles than this shit.” He paused, looking up at the others, “Power poles.”

 

Aleksei helped Adrian into the remaining pieces of body armor, finally stepping back once the man had pulled on the talon gloves. As he finished testing the talons to ensure they worked properly, Adrian caught Max staring at him.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“You’re taking down that big ship that’s in the harbor, right?” Max asked, glancing back at the wings again, then at Adrian.

 

“That’s the plan.”

 

“Alone?”

 

Adrian grimaced and looked back at Otto and Aleksei. Neither of them looked happy with the situation, and Adrian had already been through several rounds of arguments.

 

“Otto’s rig and the Rhino suit just aren’t good choices to try and take on a boat with. If Rhino or Otto are knocked overboard or an explosion happens below deck, they’d drown because of the weight of their tech.”

 

“Suit has eject system!” Aleksei interjected loudly.

 

“You still need to unbuckle yourself from the armor, and you could be knocked unconscious.” Adrian countered. Aleksei went quiet with an angry grunt afterward.

 

“My arm rig is-” Otto began.

 

“Your arm rig isn’t going to do me any good if you’re riddled with bullets. I won’t be able to keep you protected and raid the boat at the same time.” He snapped. Quickly shut down, Otto grumbled angrily, and crossed his arms.

 

“You are sure Kravinoff won’t join?” Aleksei asked.

 

“He doesn’t strike me as someone who likes to repeat himself. He said ‘no’ once and I figured that was that.” Adrian pulled his helmet on, flipping a switch along the back that brought up the HUD.

 

Walking toward the wings, he looked back at Otto as the young man followed him, helping him into the flight harness. It still irked Adrian that he needed other people to help him get fully armored and into the larger wings, but it wasn’t like he could even begin to take care of them on his own either. They were just high maintenance, and there was nothing he could do about it.

 

Once he was strapped in, he activated the turbines, allowing them to begin a warm-up cycle and performed a quick systems check. Lists of systems within the wings checked off one by one in his visors HUD.

 

“I added more.” Otto said, voice slightly muffled through the helmet.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I added more countermeasures. They’ll probably let out a lot of payload at you before it’s all over. I put in as many as I could.”

 

Adrian caught Otto’s unease. The kid wasn’t good at hiding his anxiety, especially in his voice. He brought a hand up, resting it down on Otto’s shoulder. Black crescent talons dug into Otto’s jacket and skin.

 

It was all Adrian could do for him. He tried to think of something to say, but he couldn’t find anything at this point. His mind was either on Liz and Doris or on the utter confusion he now held about Gargan. But those thoughts were for another time. He knew he needed to focus on the mission at hand. If he couldn’t complete that, then none of the inner turmoil would be worth the pain, because he’d be dead at the bottom of the East river.

 

“Do a round for me.” Adrian rasped, voice made rough and crackling through the helmet’s air filtration system.

 

“We do two!” Aleksei shouted, slapping Adrian’s armored shoulder roughly.

 

Adrian gave them a thumbs up, the men stepping away as he began to rise up and out of the wing stand. Turbines at full power, he leaned forward, speeding over the helipad.

 

This whole time he’d thought that he wasn’t afraid to die. Not since the 2nd incident. Not since having to slowly digest either or both his wife and daughter could be dead. Not that he’d wanted to die – he’d gotten close, but some part of him always kept fighting.

 

But he’d never felt afraid to dive, afraid to fly toward danger, afraid to take on any number of whack jobs with guns when there was something waiting for him at the other end.

 

Soaring between the empty skyscrapers, dropping into steep dives toward the pavement then swooping up just moments from impact, ascending back into the air in graceful loops – Adrian realized he was afraid. Even after losing so much, he still had more to lose. There would always be something for him to cling to, there would always be something for him to fear losing. Wasn’t that a kick in the teeth.

 

Good time to have this realization that he really wanted to not die just as he was soaring straight towards a Navy battleship to pick a fight.

 

* * *

 

 

“You needed to take a left back there!” Otto shouted.

 

“I know where I’m going!” Max snapped back, speeding the car down an emptied out street. A few abandoned cars were all that remained on the road, the streets otherwise devoid of life.

 

“I’m still worried,” Aleksei muttered from the back seat, hunched forward in the small, compact car. “You sure Gargan won’t be mad that we took gasoline for this?”

 

Max scoffed. “We’ll siphon out what’s left in the tank when we get back and put it back into the cache. I doubt he’s gonna notice five miles worth of gas gone.”

 

“This is way more than five miles because the ship is in the Brooklyn Navy yard and you’re heading towards Soho you dumb shit!” Otto barked. “We need to get to the bridge – Williamsburg – just turn around here!”

 

Aleksei sighed, tuning them out as the two argued. He knew Otto was right, he’d actually gotten quite acquainted with the city, but arguing with two loud, angry, fast talking young men who were fluent in English wasn’t something he felt up to right now.

 

He’d agreed to come along because he just felt the need to see if Adrian would be able to do it. If Adrian was going to be shot down and fall into the water in a scorching ball of fire, he’d want to be there to witness it. Not because he wanted to see the man die, in fact it was quite the opposite. No. Aleksei didn’t want him to die alone, for his final moments to only be remembered by the ones who shot him out of the sky.

 

It seemed remarkably unfair, but – if life had taught Aleksei anything, it was that absolutely nothing was fair.

 

Otto and Max continued to bicker for several more minutes until the bridge came into view, and Max entered a bitter silence, which lasted about three seconds.

 

He shot up in his seat, pointing and shouting. “Oh fuck me, they’ve already started!”

 

Aleksei leaned forward, trying to wedge himself between the two front seats to see. The sun was rising ahead of them, but distant, spotty clouds stopped the brightest of it from blinding them. Still, the sky was changing from dark navy to light blue, and the tall cranes of the navy yard were lighting up in bright gold and crimson as the sun struck them.

 

The Destroyer sat in the east river, exposed and out in the open. It was outside of the protective basin that Otto had said it was hiding in a day prior. As Aleksei scanned the sky above of the ship, he could see why.

 

Flashes lit up the deck of the ship as missiles launched from the surface. They streaked through the air, tails alight, spiraling toward their target.

 

Adrian was hard to spot at first, moving as fast as he did. A blinding eruption of white flares drew all eyes toward him then as the first round of countermeasures flew out of the tops of his wings.

 

“He’s using them! YES!” Otto shouted, fist pumping as he sped along the bridge. Once they reached the best vantage point to the battle they could, he slowed the car and ran out to the rail guard, leaning forward.

 

The missiles struck the countermeasures as intended, exploding in the air as Adrian flew around the boat in a wide circle. Aleksei could hear sirens coming from the boat, different tones and pitches indicating different warnings. He’d hoped that because of the huge loss from the 2nd incident, and the rise in chaos and disorder – that this ship wouldn’t have been armed to the teeth. But it was.

 

Missiles flew out of the deck, one after another. Adrian had to swoop and dodge and turn and dive, releasing the countermeasures sparingly, and only if he wasn’t able to outmaneuver the missiles. If this had been fifteen years ago, it would’ve been different. Most of the missiles, if Aleksei had to guess, were Hammer Industries. Hammer tech wasn’t as polished as Stark tech, but Stark wasn’t in the weapons business these days either. People could joke about comparisons all they wanted – at the end of the day, 90% of the time, Hammer tech worked, and right now the missiles were visibly wearing Adrian down.

 

“Why isn’t he attacking the ship? They’re just gonna keep firing missiles at him!” Max asked. Aleksei could hear the clear frustration in his voice.

 

“There’s two deck gunners...and...” Otto was squinting through a pair of binoculars, “They have guys on deck with machine guns too. The machine guns wouldn’t give him too much trouble on their own but – so many at once, I’m not sure. Plus the deck guns, those are huge – then if he gets too close he wouldn’t have the room to maneuver from a missile.”

 

“So what then?” Aleksei finally ventured, squinting as he watched Adrian circle around the boat, skirting just above the waters surface. The deck gunners were good. They were on Adrian the split second he was within range, and they were accurately guessing his flight path. More than once Aleksei could see Adrian wobble during a pass then suddenly tear away and fly upward, ascending to a safe distance to prepare for another pass.

 

“He’s just gotta bleed them dry.” Otto muttered.

 

Bleeding the Destroyer dry took hours.

 

More than once one of them had to go and find a spot to relieve themselves, but they didn’t dare leave. As early morning turned to noon, Aleksei could tell that the Destroyer was taking its time to make more precise, calculated shots. He could also tell that Adrian was worn thin. He’d never ridden in the wings before, but Aleksei was sure that all of that rolling and maneuvering would wear anyone down after several hours.

 

Once the machine gunners on deck had finally run out of ammunition, Adrian began to strafe with his Chitauri-rigged pistol. Aleksei didn’t need the binoculars to see the purple lines of light cutting across the deck and slicing through anyone unlucky enough to be caught in their path.

 

It was more of the same after that. Dive after dive, sometimes he would shoot, other times he’d duck and swerve at the last moment, scraping the tips of his wings across the deck to try and cut any remaining sailors down. The task was exhausting, and Aleksei knew that Gargan had sent him on this mission as some sort of punishment.

 

Adrian did a steep, quick dive, then swung back up into the air. Watching the deck, Aleksei noticed smoke beginning to emerge.

 

“Is ship damaged?” He asked, looking over at Otto.

 

The young man shook his head. “He threw a smoke grenade below deck. He’s tryna coax the rest of the crew out. I think they’re done for.”

 

“Bout fucking time.” Max huffed, laying on top of the car. “He’s gonna die of old age if he doesn’t wrap this up soon.”

 

Several more smoke and tear gas grenades were thrown below deck, into the innards of the ship. Aleksei eventually wrestled the binoculars away from Otto and watched with rapt attention when he saw a group of shapes emerging out onto the deck.

 

“What’s going on?” Otto asked anxiously, trying to grab the binoculars from Aleksei. The larger man easily shoved him off to the side.

 

“Men are unarmed – looks like surrender.” Aleksei muttered, his attention entirely on the sight before him.

 

The remaining crew had mustered on the deck. Aleksei estimated around fifty remained, all of them covered in sweat and blood from the few injured they’d been able to drag down from the top deck.

 

Adrian circled over the ship several times before finally gliding down to the deck. He hovered there, wings spread wide as one of the crew stepped forward and spoke. Aleksei couldn’t make out too much, but he saw a few hand gestures pass between the two men, then Adrian simply turned and rose back up into the air.

 

“What’s happening!?” Otto demanded.

 

“Crew is abandoning ship, I think.” Aleksei finally handed the binoculars over to Otto.

 

“You really think they would?” Max asked from his spot on the roof of the car. “I mean...it’s a big fuckin’ ship.”

 

“Already lose half of entire military. Probably not keen to lose more.” Aleksei grunted.

 

He watched as the crew, now just tiny dots on the gray and red-splattered deck of the Destroyer, gathered around the lifeboats and began to prepare them to go into the water. Adrian remained high up in the air, constantly circling over the Destroyer.

 

“He should’ve just killed them all.” Otto grumbled. “Gargan’s gonna be pissed if he finds out Adrian let some of the crew live.”

 

Aleksei grunted in agreement. It seemed excessive, but they couldn’t take those kinds of chances anymore. Gangs were one thing, the military was another.

 

“We should call in some guys to make sure those sailors don’t get out of Brooklyn.” Otto said, reaching for his comm device.

 

“Wait,” Aleksei grunted, pointing to the two lifeboats as they bobbed toward the Naval yard. He’d seen Adrian adjust the feathers on his wings a moment before. It was just the slightest change in angle and tilt, but it meant something. Aleksei had begun to notice it just before Adrian would go into a hard dive.

 

Otto looked at him questioningly, but Aleksei just stared as the lifeboats made their way across the water. They were almost to land, heading straight for the South Williamsburg ferry landing.

 

Aleksei couldn’t imagine how they must’ve felt. They were so close. After such a long fight, the men and women on those lifeboats must’ve been exhausted. Covered in the blood of their dead or dying comrades, half blind from tear gas and smoke grenades. Hours of trying their best and only ending in hard fought failure. Now they were so close to land, close to cover and safety, where they could rest.

 

It was cold blooded to the core, but Aleksei knew that Adrian wouldn’t have been able to finish off the rest of them if it hadn’t come to this.

 

Adrian dove. The lifeboats were just yards from the ferry terminal – just moments from land, from cover, from a safe place to hide. If nothing else, the Chitauri gun did its work quickly and Aleksei was spared having to watch any of them struggle in the water once it was all over.

 

Otto lowered his binoculars, grimacing.

 

“Damn.” Max chuckled as he sat up on the roof of the car. “That old dude is a fucking douchebag. He let them get so close too. That was mean.”

 

“No place for playing fair in this life.” Aleksei responded, moving back to the car.

 

He gave one last glance back to the floating remnants of the lifeboats. The water was awash with blood and sliced up life jackets, some still with their occupants floating inside of them. A loud roar caught his attention, and he quickly looked up.

 

Adrian had shot tow lines from the base of his wings down to the deck of the boat. The jet along the backs of his wings was roaring at full blast, turbines spinning madly in tandem.

 

“Is he tryna lift that thing!?” Max exclaimed, snatching the binoculars from Otto.

 

Otto snatched them back. “No you idiot – he’s just tugging it across the river to our side. Jesus, you gotta start thinking about stuff before you just let it come out of your mouth.”

 

“Tugboat! Tugbird!” Aleksei shouted at Adrian, even though he knew the man couldn’t hear him.

 

It was clear that the wings were struggling with towing the huge boat. It was an arduous grind. Inch by inch, foot by foot, it took Adrian nearly an hour to tug the Destroyer across the river. Once it was finally dragged up near a fire boat house that sat along the river’s edge, Adrian secured the boat lines down and flew to the small park nearby.

 

* * *

 

 

He needed to use the bathroom badly and his stomach had been growling for two hours straight, but Adrian desperately needed to let the adrenaline rush wear down before he flew back to the tower.

 

It was ugly business, the whole affair, and he didn’t feel like that had been much of a victory. He’d been just about ready to cut the damn boat in half and leave it at that until they’d finally surrendered.

 

Now he had the deaths of nearly a hundred and fifty sailors on his hands.

 

Gang members, Spider-man, other criminals who got in his way – the occasional hoarder of supplies who wanted to be a tough guy and try to pull a gun on him – they deserved it. But this didn’t sit well with him. Not that he’d ever been a gung-ho military kinda guy, but he’d seen their faces up close when their captain had offered a surrender. Most of them couldn’t have been too much older than Liz. Early 20’s maybe, scared out of their wits but putting on strong faces.

 

They’d survived the 2nd incident, probably watched a lot of their buddies turn into dust, lived through the months of hell that followed as the world fell apart – then were just unlucky enough to be on the wrong boat in the wrong harbor. They were barely adults, these were just kids to him.

 

_So was Peter Parker_ , a voice reminded him in the back of his head.

 

_Well_ , he had to justify to himself, _Parker had decided to get his hands in his business. He was just protecting what was his. This mission – this whole takeover of New York – this was Gargan’s deal. The blood was ultimately on Mac Gargan’s hands for this massacre._

 

_...No._

 

_It wasn’t._

 

He had to accept that at this point, it didn’t matter what kind of justification he could make up in his head. There was no going back to feeling like any kind of a good person.

 

A car honk drew his attention, and he reached for his pistol, turning toward the sound.

 

Aleksei, Otto and Max waved at him from the nearby highway, shouting and hollering and giving him applause.

 

“Tugbird Boat-slayer!” Aleksei shouted, cheering for him.

 

Adrian hovered a few feet across the grass, leaning down in the best imitation of a bow he could muster while stuck in the harness. He decided it was time to return then, and began to ascend toward the skyline.

 

As he flew back, he had to wonder. Did Mac Gargan really think he’d been entirely capable of doing this? Or was it just a punishment and he expected word of failure? Adrian wasn’t sure.

 

In due time he’d face him again and then, regardless if his intentions, if Gargan was true to his word, Adrian would get the chance to finally see if Liz and Doris had made it.

 

But they probably hadn’t.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this story being such a mess. I honestly hadn't meant for it to be this long. It was meant to be a series of vignettes, but, well, here we are. I didn't really plan for any character arcs, and I've had a lot going on irl so I haven't been doing a lot of behind the scenes work in terms of keeping characterizations on point like I should. If motivations seem all over the place, I apologize for that. I really appreciate if you've made it this far. I'm going to try and cap the story off at 15 chapters.


	12. Chapter 12

“You remember the startup sequence right?” Otto asked.

 

“Yeah, I got it.”

 

“And you remember to land horizontally if you have to shut them down for longer than ten minutes, right?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“And how to get in and out of the new harness system?”

 

“Yes mom.”

 

Otto’s face scrunched up as he looked over his clipboard. Adrian chuckled, shrugging.

 

“C’mon, relax. I know these babies in and out. It’s just one week, I can manage them for that long. Don’t you trust what you built with your own two hands?”

 

“It’s not the wings that I’m worried about.” The young man sneered, and began to check over Adrian’s new harness again. He’d made this one over the course of two days. It had made Adrian feel so old. In the two days time he’d needed to rest and recover from the Destroyer mission, Otto had come up with an entirely new, independent harness system.

 

Of course, Adrian had suspected that Otto had planned to use this new system from the very beginning. The kid wouldn’t outright say it, but Adrian was sure that Gargan had some influence in just how much he and Rhino lacked in complete independence when it came to operating their respective rigs. The old harness system requiring two people to lock someone into place, the kill switch – it all stemmed from Gargan’s paranoia that his colleagues would eventually betray him.

 

Adrian couldn’t focus on Gargan right now though. Right now was for final preparations.

 

“I’ve uploaded planning info on the city you said your wife and daughter had moved to.” Otto said as he handed Adrian his helmet. His voice got quiet. “...You’re sure she told you the truth?”

 

_Christ, this kid needed to get a real relationship under his belt._

 

“I’m sure.” Adrian growled, snatching the helmet from him. “They were mad at me – but Doris wouldn’t lie to me. What reason would she have to? All three of us thought I’d be in jail for the rest of my natural life, or sent to some black bag government site for selling alien tech. We were trying to get Liz to look forward to the move...you know, meet new friends, live in a hip part of the country, a chance for her to leave...”

 

Adrian gestured to himself. “Leave me behind, leave all the baggage behind and start over.”

 

“Wait..” Otto frowned, “You’ve been talking in circles for months about how you were doing the whole thing for her own good. Weren’t you?”

 

“Yes!” Adrian was quick on the defensive, “Yes – I was! It was always about them! Never about me.”

 

“But at the end of the day, it was better for Liz to be away from you.”

 

“Away from the media circus that was about to start – will you beat it, you little weasel? You aren’t my fuckin’ therapist.”

 

Otto rolled his eyes, turning away to walk across the helipad. “Old fart.”

 

Aleksei on the other hand, just wished him well with a slap on the shoulder and a firm nod.

 

“Hope you find closure.” He’d told Adrian. Not ‘I hope they’re alive’. It had stung Adrian, but only for a short while. It was as realistic and as compassionate a goodbye as he was going to get.

 

Strapped in and geared up, Adrian activated the turbines and let them start their warm-up sequence. Otto and Aleksei had stepped back from the helipad and were watching him from the cover of a large glass canopy. Only Gargan remained, standing near a work bench. He hadn’t said a word to Adrian yet, and the two had barely shared a glance since he’d given him news of the successful Destroyer mission.

 

Adrian pulled his helmet on and prepared to disengage from the wing stand. He was beginning to feel the familiar weightlessness that came with hovering when Gargan stepped toward him. His hands were in his pockets, his stance casual. Mac looked up at Adrian with a sigh, shaking his head.

 

“You’re putting yourself through a lot of trouble for two people that are probably dead.”

 

Adrian was impatient to leave, and that made him irritated. “Have you ever cared about anyone, or anything, besides yourself?”

 

“No.” Gargan admitted with a small shrug, glancing off to the side.

 

Adrian felt a slight twinge of regret at his words, but it was too late to take them back now. He rose out of the wing stand, hovering up several feet into the air. Looking down at Gargan, his voice was a sinister rasp through the helmet’s speakers.

 

“See you in a week.”

 

He banked to the left, great wings turning as he sped away. Once the tower was a good half mile behind him, Adrian finally put his foot on the gas and activated the propulsion at full force.

 

Roaring to life, the Chitauri-jet engine hybrid that Otto had built sent him blasting forward with speeds that he’d never experienced. This was like catching up to the Stark jet but ten times better, and also five times as terrifying. If he made too steep a turn or banked too hard at these speeds, it would be so simple to lose control and crash. On the bright side, at least death would be quick – and if he was really lucky he’d just pass out from the fall before he actually hit the ground.

 

Grimacing at his own morbid thoughts, Adrian tried to push them aside by concentrating on the sights beneath him. He deactivated the enhanced view on his helmet, allowing it to show an unaltered, completely honest view of the world beneath him. It was so rare he ever saw the world as it really was when he was up in the air.

 

Skyscrapers passed beneath him, glittering like rectangular beasts covered in shimmering scales as the rising sun struck their windows. He could see the bones of the city, the boxy grids of streets, the carefully planned out patches of green, brownstones standing in groups among their contemporary counterparts.

 

As he rose higher, the city changed from unique patches of steel, stone and green to one massive, multicolored splotch. Within it were streaks of gray, the interstates and highways that lead to and from New York. Converging like strands along a spider’s web with the city right in the heart of it.

 

In time, those too became too small and blurry to see, and Adrian switched the viewscreen back on within his helmet. He glanced at the vital signs displayed to his right. Otto told him that the pressure suit he wore would keep him safe for such a high altitude flight, but that he needed to keep an eye on his vitals regardless because of his age.

 

Well, at least the kid give a _slight_ shit.

 

Checking his location, Adrian was satisfied with how far he’d already traveled. He’d forgotten how fast the wings could go when he didn’t have to worry about dodging or rolling. As an added bonus, this time he didn’t have any jets to catch up with.

 

Still, the trip would take two days at the very least. He’d have to stop as little as possible and only sleep in short shifts to make that work, but he believed he could do it. Otto and Aleksei had packed various rations of food and water in the compartments that lined the undersides of the enormous wings, so that wasn’t an issue. All he had to do was make good time, and not fall asleep from the sheer boredom of nonstop flight for hours on end.

 

Speaking of which…

 

He’d given Otto a request while the kid had been fixing up the new harness system. Otto had blown it off, saying there were much more important things to worry about, but sometimes the kid surprised him. Adrian hoped this was one of those times.

 

Reaching up to the back of his helmet, he flipped the comm channel. Several channels were available, most of them being private channels used during operations, but there were a few unused frequencies. Adrian wasn’t a genius, but he’d suggested that one of those unused channels could be hooked up to some music, if Otto would’ve been kind enough to install some in the helmet.

 

He switched through the frequencies. Static, static, more static – then suddenly the crooning sound of a female singer filled the helmet. He knocked the volume down a bit, then closed his eyes, gliding as he felt his blood turn cold. It was then he realized he hadn’t heard a bit of music in months. There had been so many other things to worry about that it had been the last thing on his mind to even consider.

 

Hearing it now was like a shot of the purest morphine to sooth his aching, aging body and dying spirit in the face of all this calamity. As he soared through sweeping oceans of pink and gold clouds, Adrian finally felt something he hadn’t felt in years; peace.

 

* * *

 

Adrian had expected things to be the same or better the further he got out of New York. He hadn’t expected them to be worse.

 

He’d stayed too high up over Pennsylvania to see, but as he descended over Michigan, it became apparent that things were in far worse shape than he’d imagined. One town he flew over had been completely burnt to the ground.

 

There was no sight of any person within the small towns and roads he passed over. Perhaps they’d converged in the city, which made sense. He doubted Michigan was having the same problems that seemed to gravitate in New York. Those problems namely being himself and his cohorts.

 

He circled over a small, emptied out town for several minutes, wary to land. He needed to land, he needed to eat, drink, hit the bathroom, and check the engines.

 

Still, a shiver ran down his spine as he looked at the corpse of the town beneath him. Cars sat long abandoned on the road. Some had crashed when their drivers had turned to dust, others had stopped and been left behind for whatever reason. Belongings labeled as useless by looters and scavengers alike lay strewn around porches and driveways. Books, backpacks filled with school supplies, briefcases and purses emptied of whatever valuables deemed worth taking along. They lay across the streets and sidewalks in unapologetic display. As if someone had taken a knife to these people’s lives and cut them open, the guts of their past spread out for everyone to see.

 

Finally, he decided to land near a gas station. It had been emptied out long ago, the hoses and tanks all siphoned for those last desperate ounces of fuel. The gas station provided him with a large concrete pad to land on, and shelter from incoming rain.

 

It was precarious to land without a wing stand. He had to set all his weight on the feathers and allow them to support the entire harness, like a pair of sharp hands digging into the cement that propped the rest of the wings up. Once he had dug the Chitauri metal well enough into the ground, he pulled roughly on an emergency lever that released his entire harness at once.

 

Landing on his feet, Adrian winced as his knees took the brunt of his weight. If it had just been him, it would’ve been one thing – but this was his own body weight plus the armor, which was as heavy as a small child at this point.

 

He pulled his helmet off, taking in a long breath and switching off the audio system. Setting it by the wings, Adrian drew his pistol and gave a wary look around the abandoned gas station and various convenience stores that spotted the once busy street. It was clear that this town was more or less a pit stop to people heading in and out of the state. There would’ve been little to no support for the survivors here after the 2nd Incident. If any of them had their wits about them, they left, and long ago.

 

_Still_.

 

Adrian didn’t like to take chances. He wasn’t a superstitious man either – but something about this place just set him in a state of unease. The entire area had an electricity to it, a disturbing feeling that there was something just waiting to pop out at him.

 

Tense and on edge, Adrian quickly went to the gas station to see if he could find anything worth looting and do his business. He didn’t like leaving the wings unattended, but they were easily within sight.

 

The interior of the gas station was dark, save for the cold, overcast light that came from the cloudy sky. A few pieces of newspapers and tabloids floated across the floor, the door having been shattered and torn off its hinges months prior.

 

Adrian held his pistol up. The purple, alien light radiating from it gave him a tiny bit of illumination as he stepped inside. Racks of junk food and entire refrigerators of drinks had long since been looted and completely stripped of anything edible.

 

As he walked further inside, a terrible smell wafted through the air and caught his attention. He turned, pointing his pistol toward the counter. Whatever that stench was, it was coming from behind there. Adrian took a step to go around and see what was behind it, but something kept him from taking another. He’d learned long ago to go with his instincts, to trust his gut – and right now his gut was telling him to get the hell out of there.

 

Maybe he was just scared, or maybe the whole thing was in his head. He wasn’t going to waste time debating, and instead backed out of the building with his pistol drawn, and found a different spot to take a breather. He would’ve liked to have stayed longer, but he didn’t. Business done and ready to go, Adrian was eager to climb back up into the rig and set off.

 

As he strapped himself back in, he cast a look over the empty streets and sad remains of what had once been, admittedly, probably a pretty pathetic town.

 

There was nothing left here but the ghosts of the lives people had been forced to leave behind, and Adrian didn’t want to stand among them. The turbines kicked into gear, and as soon as they had warmed up, he tore the feathers from the cement and shot skyward.

 

* * *

 

Adrian elected not to stop at towns anymore as he made his way westward. It wasn’t too difficult to find clearings outside of civilization to land in. Golf courses, parks, and just the middles of highways had become his go-to for when he needed to land for short stops.

 

He slept for six hours that night. It irked him to have to be asleep for so long, but he knew that if he wasn’t at the top of his game, he’d do a shit job at getting to Oregon. Adrian couldn’t afford to be tired and miss a single thing on his display screen or vital signs. Plus, he was already almost halfway there. He’d done a scan of the nearby city and identified it as Sioux Falls, which meant he’d just crossed into North Dakota. A few states more and he’d arrive in Oregon on the dawn of his third day.

 

The rest of his trip back was uneventful, but he liked it that way. He’d gotten a chance to sight-see, something he’d never really gotten to enjoy prior to this. Whenever he’d been up in the air it was always about staying out of sight or strict adherence to the timetable. That or planning his aerial attack and having his head in the battle.

 

As the sun set on his second day of nearly nonstop flight at top speed, he descended to begin scoping out a place to land for the night. The landscape beneath him was peculiar, with great pools of water that turned bright turquoise at the edges. He checked his navigation system, and realized he was flying over Yellowstone.

 

Part of him felt guilty for having to disrupt the place by flying over it with the roar of his engines at full blast. Birds rose out of their trees, taking flight in a panic. Looking down across a long stretch of valley, Adrian saw a swarm of brown shapes running across the green fields. Switching the engines off and letting the turbines take over, he slowed and glided toward the field.

 

It was embarrassing to admit sometimes to Doris’ more affluent friends, but Adrian had never really left the north east. He’d never wanted to. Sure, he’d bounce around up and down the east coast, but never this far west. He’d never been past Michigan in his entire adult life.

 

He’d seen Elk before, once or twice, but never so many – and never so close. Watching his winged shadow cast down over them, Adrian felt a bitter taste roil up in his mouth.

 

Liz should’ve gotten to see this. She would’ve loved this.

 

Turning away from the herd, he left them to calm down and resume their grazing. He decided then to leave the park behind him and wait until he found the nearest town to lay down and rest for the night. The Chitauri pistol wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good if a Grizzly got to his neck first while he was asleep. Plus, bears were scary. Bears were just scary and he was from New York and he wasn’t going to deal with a potential Bear and that was that.

 

* * *

 

He found himself sluggish throughout his pre-flight checks the next day. Sleep hadn’t come easy, knowing he was so close to where Doris and Liz had been. He was sure they weren’t there now, of course, it wouldn’t make sense to stay in a home with limited food, no electricity and no water. Of course, that was assuming the entire network of grids and services had crashed on this end of the states like it had on his. By the looks of the towns and cities he’d passed, it was just as bad on this end.

 

Once he was up in the air however, he was fully awake and completely terrified. He was assuming he’d find nothing – but what if he didn’t? What if he found something he didn’t want to find? Of course, he had to remind himself, this trip was more for closure than for actually hoping to find his wife and daughter and somehow help them.

 

He was grateful that the rest of the trip was so short compared to the last two legs of it. For the most part, he’d been able to push his nerves aside for most of the flight, but not here, not so close to a potential answer.

 

Doris had mentioned the Alameda neighborhood in Portland. They’d done the parental tag-team with Liz, Adrian on one side of the glass, Doris on the other. Both of them trying to make Portland sound like a fun, cool, hip place to be. Which, according to some weird TV show that Liz seemed to think was hilarious, was entirely true.

 

Adrian hadn’t reached a point in the legal proceedings about just how much money was going to be claimed from his accounts. Luckily Doris had kept a separate account in her name, and with her lack of knowledge on the entire affair, none of that money had been touched as far as Adrian knew.

 

Otto had taken the time to upload several layout maps of Portland, including its neighborhoods sectioned out into neat little grids. As Adrian approached the city, he tapped a small switch on his armored wrist to scroll through the various displays offered to him.

 

Alameda wasn’t as big as he’d expected, but it was also kind of...underwhelming. Not that he’d expected Doris and Liz to maintain the lifestyle he had been able to afford for the three of them through gun running of course, but still. It wasn’t terrible, it was in a nice part of town. If you could call the west coast ‘nice’.

 

That was the New Yorker in him talking, and he shut that voice down as he deactivated the jets and allowed the turbines to take over. Slowing in flight, he flew slowly over the streets, scanning for Doris’ car. He’d heard her mention they were taking it – if he could just find it -

 

Bingo.

 

Adrian turned and soared down to the familiar car that was parked in the driveway of a quaint little home. It was nothing compared to the home they’d had in New York, but it could’ve been worse. Adrian had to keep reminding himself of that. It could’ve been a lot worse. He carefully flew over a nearby span of power lines and set himself down before the small home.

 

With the wing rig secured on the lawn outside, Adrian pulled his helmet off, staring at the house he assumed to be empty. They hadn’t died in a car crash, but they hadn’t driven off to a safe place either. Most of the other driveways in the neighborhood were empty. Had they stayed in the city?

 

Deep down Adrian knew that there were no answers for him. He could wander all he wanted, but there would be no catharsis at the end of this. Adrian crossed the lawn and placed his gloved hand on the doorknob, testing it. To his surprise, the door clicked open, and he stepped inside.

 

Ambient light gave the home a cozy glow. The smell of the home was a familiar one, as if it had traveled across the states with them. Adrian recognized various pictures and pieces of art that Doris had kept, all neatly arranged on the walls. It seemed a bit cramped, but Adrian knew his wife was desperately attached to the pieces. A woven blanket lay across the sofa in the living room. It was the same blanket that he and Doris had sat on to eat during their first trip up to the Adirondacks together.

 

Stepping into the kitchen as quietly as he could, Adrian saw a pan sitting on the stove top. Blackened, burnt eggs were in the pan, a spatula on the floor nearby. He felt his heart sink, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach as he realized what it meant. The empty space took on a presence of its own when he realized it was where Doris must’ve been standing when it happened.

 

Adrian took a step back toward the door, stuck in place as he stared at the grave of his wife – kitchen tile and a burnt stove top. It took him a few moments before he found the courage to walk past the spot she had turned to ash. He felt as if her presence was still there, stuck in its place, stuck where the rest of her had been taken.

 

Past the kitchen was a small hallway, connected to just three rooms. The first was a bathroom, and the other two were bedrooms. The first bedroom he came upon was Doris’. He didn’t go inside; even though Doris was gone, it still felt like a violation of her space. Adrian didn’t feel he had the right to examine her new life and see what pictures she kept beside the bed and those she chose not to. He also knew that if he did go in and check, he may not have liked what he found.

 

The second room he came to was the worst of it all.

 

Liz’s room. Her posters were up on the wall, her pictures were tacked onto the cork board above her desk. String lights shaped like flamingos were hung around the vanity mirror above her drawer. Pictures of her friends from New York were taped around the border of the mirror, and Adrian briefly recognized Peter in one of them.

 

On her bed was her laptop, still open, with a heavy layer of dust over the screen and keyboard. The covers were covered in creases that pointed toward the center, indicating the weight of a body had once been laying there. All that remained of his daughter, all that was left of her loving smile and the fast future that lay ahead of her, were creases in a sheet.

 

Adrian didn’t scream, or shout, or burst into tears. He backed away, feeling himself go numb, and found a corner of the house to sit down in.

 

A memory struck him as he found a dark corner near a staircase, curling up as best he could in the shadows. He’d once adopted an alley cat when he was a teen, growing up in New York. He’d fed her, and given her bits of chicken when she would come up the fire escape to visit him. One day she had come up and acted strange. She was sluggish and tired, and refused any food he’d offered to her. After that day, she’d never returned.

 

Adrian had asked his mother what she thought had happened, and she’d answered plainly;

 

_“Animals know when they’re on their way out, so they find a spot to die. She probably went back down behind the dumpster where it’s warmer, found a nice spot and let go.”_

 

He felt like that cat now, curled up in the corner of a strange house, with the ashen remains of his entire world just a few feet down the hallway. If he’d been lucky, death would have been there to take him too.

 

* * *

 

_Twenty Years Ago_

 

Adrian squirmed in the therapists chair, glancing uncomfortably around the room. Books lined the walls, and Adrian was absolutely sure this doctor had never read any of them. He’d probably just put all of them up there just to look smart.

 

Sitting across from him was a thin man in his late 40’s, with just a hint of gray hair at his temples. He had a chart in one hand and a pen in the other, and was smiling amicably at Adrian.

 

“You seem a little uncomfortable.” He observed. The doctor didn’t sound condescending, as Adrian was expecting. In fact, he sounded sympathetic.

 

“I am.” Adrian answered honestly. “This whole deal isn’t really my thing. My wife made me do this. You seem like a smart guy, and I don’t mean any offense, but I really don’t feel like I need to be here right now.”

 

The Doctor - Dr. Bryant - nodded. “I understand. I respect that. A lot of people don’t need therapy, and this probably seems like an overreaction to what happened.”

 

Adrian nodded in agreement. Did that mean the guy would just let him leave?

 

Dr. Bryant continued, “Now, your wife did pay for a full hour. If you want to get up and go, I’ll refund her payment, and she’ll get a statement in the mail saying that the hour wasn’t used.”

 

Adrian frowned, and stayed firmly in his seat.

 

That settled that, and Dr. Bryant leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.

 

“Your wife said that you lost your nephew.”

 

Adrian’s annoyance was quickly dampened by that somber reminder of why he was here in the first place. He grunted, shrinking back into the chair and glancing away.

 

“Yeah. Mal. He was a good kid...I call him ‘kid’. He was in college. Ran track and wanted to be a journalist. He was really something.”

 

Dr.Bryant wrote something down on his chart, all without taking his eyes off of Adrian.

 

“This happened almost a year ago, Mr. Toomes, from what your wife told me. The death of any loved one can be traumatic, and from what it sounds like, you had a very close bond with your nephew. I know it’s been some time since he passed away, but do you feel like you’ve been able to move on and get back to your daily life?”

 

Adrian stared ahead, pursing his lips. Well, if he was stuck here for the whole damn hour, he might as well make use of it.

 

“No.” He answered quietly. “I keep thinking about him. I keep thinking about how much he just loved life. He was so excited to be in college, he was so excited about his future. He’d call me and talk to me, you know. My brother and I, we aren’t close. We had a falling out a long time ago, back when Mal was still a kid. But even then he’d call me and talk to me, cause he thought what I did was cool.” Adrian couldn’t help but chuckle, even as the memory felt like a knife in his chest. “He thought what I did – me, a junk hauler, a salvage guy – he thought I was cool. Then when he went to college he’d talk all this talk about...how people looked down on the working class. How his dad was too caught up in money and didn’t respect waiters and yadda yadda. He wanted to tell stories about those people. About people who struggled every day to make it.”

 

Adrian shook his head, a look of disgust blossoming across his face. “It’s not fair. I know life ain’t fair, never expected it to be. This though – this was different than a bad contract or a flat tire or losing your wallet. I’ve never believed in God, and I sure ain’t now. No God out there would let some kid that bright die like that. Not before he even got a chance to live his life.”

 

The anger drained from Adrian’s voice and he rubbed the side of his head. “There were so many things I wanted to tell him. I thought he’d always just known that I was proud of him. Now that he’s gone I don’t think I ever told him once, I just told him ‘you’re doing great kid’ and that stuff. That’s close but it ain’t the same.”

 

Dr. Bryant held up a hand, signaling for Adrian to pause. He stood and walked to his desk, taking another clipboard from it with a blank piece of paper on it. Returning, he handed the paper and a pen to Adrian.

 

“Write it down.”

 

Adrian stared at him, then down at the paper, then back at Dr. Bryant.

 

“What? All the things I wanted to tell him?”

 

Dr. Bryant nodded, leaning back in his seat.

 

“Well what the fuck good’s that gonna do?”

 

“This is for you.” Dr. Bryant said firmly as Adrian’s temper simmered down. “I realize that Mal isn’t with us anymore, but you still have these emotions inside of you. You still have these things you wanted to say but you never got to say. I want you to write them down. Write them down in a letter to Mal. Get everything out on the paper. This is just our first step, but it’s so important you don’t keep this bottled up.”

 

Adrian gave Dr. Bryant a skeptical look, narrowing his eyes at him. Despite his skepticism, he clicked the pen and brought the clipboard up to rest on his knee, and began to write.

 

* * *

 

_Now_

 

It was nighttime when Adrian finally rose and prepared himself to leave. The house was dark, and he had to pull on his helmet and activate the night vision to even see. Without street lights or even ambient light from far off downtown, the home was pitch black. Adrian rarely experienced this kind of night. New York never really got dark, not like it did in other places. Even now, he was up on the helipad floor, with the moon and stars to give some illumination to the otherwise pitch black city.

 

Here though, confined in the small home, it was utterly black.

 

With the night vision aiding him, he made his way down the hall and back to the kitchen. Carefully avoiding where Doris had died, he leaned heavily on the opposite counter edge. Reaching the door, a small block of white caught Adrian’s eye off to the side. Looking down, he saw a small notepad. Doris had always kept one around to write her to-do lists on before leaving the house. A few pens sat nearby in a jar covered in stickers.

 

Adrian stared at the paper for a long time, then slowly reached for a pen. It was nearly impossible to grab one with the talons on his fingers, and even harder to uncap it. He was determined though, and after a few failed and scribbled attempts, he brought the pen carefully down to paper, and began to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness on this one. Holiday stuff and Nanowrimo all collided together. Hoping to get back on track with a weekly update and wrap this baby up


	13. Chapter 13

Adrian could tell that something was wrong as soon as he set down on the helipad.

 

Normally, Otto or Aleksei would’ve been there to meet him. If everyone else was on a heist or a resource run, Gargan always left someone behind to let him know. This time, the helipad was completely empty. Adrian huffed as he slowed into a landing. He’d sent several transmissions over their frequency that he was arriving. There hadn’t been a response, but he’d just figured they didn’t have their radios switched on.

 

The wing stand was there for him, and he allowed it to take the weight of the wings off of his back. Unstrapping himself from them, he pulled his helmet off, walking inside. It took a few minutes of searching, but Adrian finally ran into one of Gargan’s men. He found the gunman sitting in the kitchen, eating cold beans from a can.

 

“Oh, shit...” The gunman muttered when Adrian walked in, “You’re back? I thought you skipped out.”

 

Adrian let out a long sigh, dead eyed and weary. “Probably would’ve been for the best, but here I am. Where’s Otto?”

 

The look the gunman gave him caused Adrian immediate worry.

 

“There was an accident...” The man was clearly trying his best to be gentle with the news, occasionally glancing at the talon gloves, “Uhh – he’s not dead or anything. He just got really fucked up. Him and that electrician guy. They were doing something with an arc reactor panel in the basement and it like...exploded? Or something? I don’t know man, I was up here the whole time. They got me hauling stuff up the stairs since the power went out after the accident.”

 

_Well shit._

 

“Alright, alright.” Adrian grumbled, rubbing his face. “Where’s Otto now?”

 

“They got him on one of the middle floors, somewhere between 30 and 40. S’where that Russian guy lives.” He paused, then continued, “The scary quiet one, not cool Rhino guy.”

 

Adrian grunted, walking past the gunman and heading to the staircase. After spending so long up in the air, his knees were not very happy to be hitting the stairs again. Still, he needed to loosen up his legs, they were stiff and he could feel pain up in his hips and back. He was just an old fart, and being one came with a lot of aches.

 

Once he reached Kravinoff’s floor, Adrian glanced back up the way he’d came. He groaned, knowing his knees would be screaming once he was done going back up.

 

He knocked loudly at the door. The floor had once been the medical center of the tower, the closest equivalent without becoming an actual hospital. Kravinoff had claimed it for himself when they all moved in. To be fair, he was the only one among all of them who had any working knowledge of how to take care of serious injuries. That and the hospital beds were still there, having been left for the next buyer of the tower. They were incredibly comfortable. Naturally, Kravinoff refused to share a single one.

 

One of Gargan’s men answered the door, quickly stepping aside to let him in.

 

Adrian passed him and walked through the dark waiting room. Emerging from the darkness, he entered a room that was full of natural sunlight. Vast windows made up the walls and ceilings of the former medical center. The recovery rooms themselves were all glass and stainless steel. Adrian could see one room that had two beds, one in either corner. In the room adjacent was Gargan and Kravinoff.

 

Both their heads turned when he entered, and the two men came out and met him in the sunlit hallway.

 

“Kinda surprised you came back.” Gargan admitted, his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face.

 

“Well if it makes you feel any better,” Adrian rasped, “You don’t have to worry about me being distracted anymore.”

 

Gargan’s expression didn’t even budge. Adrian looked over to Kravinoff, who was leaning against the steel railing.

 

“What happened? One of the men upstairs said there was an accident.”

 

Kravinoff grumbled, jerking his hand back toward the recovery rooms. “Otto and his electrician friend. Went downstairs to do work on the Arc reactor panel that connects to the main line. Thinking the Chitauri technology reacted somehow, or came into contact.” He shrugged, “Not an electrician.”

 

“They awake?” Adrian asked, “Can they talk?”

 

“Oh they’re awake.” Gargan snorted, “Otto won’t stop crying like a bitch and Max keeps twitching. His brains are fried or something. If he starts having a seizure or some shit we need to just put him out of his misery. Otto’s in bad shape though…fuck me. We lose Otto and we’re screwed. Unless either of you have a genius in mechanical engineering just laying around.”

 

Kravinoff gave a snort, and they left it at that.

 

“Let’s not take Max out behind the shed just yet.” Adrian grumbled, pushing past the two. “I’ll talk to Otto. As for Max, just – give him a few days. He’s probably just shaken up.”

 

Adrian walked across the glass floor to the large recovery room. The weight of his harness and body armor – lightweight though it was – was beginning to make him tired. Nonstop flying was surprisingly exhausting, especially when he had to fight against strong breezes or wind shear.

 

Inside the recovery room were two beds. The first was covered with dozens of cheap, thin hospital blankets. It was as if someone had just piled them all on and around the bed, covering the sides completely. Adrian tilted his head as he walked toward the bed, seeing the tuft of Otto’s hair at the top of the covers.

 

Adrian pulled the covers down from Otto’s face carefully. He really did have to hen-peck things with the talons on, lest he gouge whatever he was trying to hold.

 

Otto stared up at him, red-faced and teary eyed. He sniffled, yanking the covers back up over his face.

 

“Go away.” His voice was muffled and strained. His voice was broken from having cried so much, Adrian figured.

 

Adrian had dealt with a lot in the past week. He wasn’t going to deal with Otto, the smartest man in the room, reduced to bedridden crying. Yanking the covers back down, he looked Otto in the eye, leaning over the bedside to leer down at him.

 

“You can’t stay there forever.” He hissed, “You’ve got to get out of bed and make yourself useful. Gargan will kill you if you aren’t useful. He’s already thinking about getting rid of Max.”

 

A muffled ‘What!?’ came from across the room, but Adrian ignored it.

 

Otto angrily brought up an arm to shove Adrian away.

 

“You don’t get it!” He cried, tearing off sheet after sheet until his shoulders and chest were exposed.

 

Adrian winced at the damage that had been done. Scorch marks burnt along Otto’s shoulders and up his neck. The worst of the burns were covered in bandages, but even from the front, Adrian could tell the damage was extensive. His tentacle harness, which normally required straps to keep on, was somehow attached to his back without them. Adrian narrowed his eyes and circled around to the other side of the bed.

 

He wasn’t prepared to see the carnage that had been Otto’s back. Huge burns stretched out in a pattern from his harness, tearing into the skin. Some were bandaged, but blood had soaked the gauze pads entirely through and begun to stain the mattress. The central piece of the harness, the metal spinal guard made from the Chitauri steel, was sinking into his back. It appeared as if it had melted itself a half inch down into the skin before finally stopping. Adrian couldn’t believe his eyes – if all of this was as bad as it looked, how the hell was the kid still alive? How was he even able to move?

 

“Alright, alright...” Adrian breathed after a few moments of observing the mutilated skin. He circled back around and knelt down by the bed, looking up at Otto.

 

“That’s pretty bad, kid.” He said quietly, reaching out and placing his hand over Otto’s. It was difficult to do without cutting him with a talon, but he managed.

 

“How in the hell are you still alive after that?” Adrian asked quietly.

 

Otto shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know...There was an explosion, but I don’t remember most of it. I remember waking up – then just pain. For days, nothing but pain. I’m not crying because I’m sad, like all these assholes think I am. There’s a steel spine over mine and it’s been digging its way through my back since the accident! And it fucking hurts!”

 

“Okay, okay, lay down. Come on, lay back down.” Adrian brought his hands up to Otto’s shoulders, barely nudging him.

 

Otto carefully went down to lay on his back. He winced, a cold sweat along his forehead.

 

Adrian felt his heart sink. The poor kid was clearly in tremendous pain, and no doubt he’d been in it nonstop, for days. Adrian made his mind up then to go out later and find painkillers. He was exhausted from his trip, but seeing Otto in a state like this was enough to spur him into new action.

 

“We’ll figure it out, kid.” Adrian said, stepping over a limp tentacle that hung off the side of the bed.

 

Otto sniffled, shaking his head. “I’m gonna die here. It’s gonna keep digging in and kill me.” He brought a hand up to his face, and Adrian could see emotional pain overtake the physical. “I don’t wanna die here. I don’t wanna die in this place, around these awful people.”

 

Adrian could sympathize. He’d had the same racing thoughts when he’d been buried under the burning wreckage of his own wings. They were brief, fleeting thoughts – but they were powerful. Despite his sympathy, he couldn’t tell Otto a flat out lie either.

 

“Kid, I don’t know what’s gonna happen. I’m going to leave though. You need painkillers and something for your burns.”

 

As Adrian began to stand, he felt a tug on his wrist.

 

Otto had his head hung low, staring at the covers. “Promise you won’t let Gargan kill me?” He asked, sounding like a child, desperate for reassurance. “I’m afraid of him. He’s going to kill me – I know it. I’m useless to him now.”

 

“You’re not, alright? You’re not.” Adrian carefully pried Otto’s hand off of his wrist. “He knows how valuable you are. He’s not gonna waste his biggest resource.”

 

Those words seemed to reassure Otto just enough that he gave a tiny nod and pulled the covers back over himself.

 

Adrian watched him for a few more moments before finally turning and walking across the room to Max. The young man only had one blanket over him, and was fiddling with some kind of tablet.

 

“That thing still got battery life in it?” Adrian asked as he watched Max curiously.

 

Turning toward him, Max grinned, shaking his head.

 

“It’s all me. I got blasted by the arc reactor radiation, plus the Chitauri power core radiation that was in Otto’s rig. I can like...” He shook his head, grinning. Adrian could see him shaking, trembling almost, but he didn’t seem to be in pain. “It’s like I can feel currents or something. Like I suddenly have ten sets of lungs and I can control what goes in or out, what goes in me, what goes in the ground, what goes in devices – like – watch this...watch the battery meter.”

 

Max gripped the tablet, the screen becoming brighter after a couple of seconds.

 

Adrian saw for himself, the battery bar on the top of the screen go from near empty to full in a matter of seconds.

 

_Well_ , he figured, _You see Alien portals in the sky and Thunder Gods, how hard was it to accept a guy that could harness electricity?_ Half the world just blew away in the wind. At this point Adrian would consider himself a fool if he were skeptical of anything.

 

“You got a good grip on that?” He asked, watching Max carefully as he began to play a game on the tablet.

 

“Getting there.” He said, not taking his eyes off the tablet. “Gonna try it on some power equipment in another building tomorrow. Figure if I can get a grip on how to charge a tablet, I might be able to charge some small equipment. Gonna start small and just keep moving up.”

 

Adrian grunted, keeping a slight distance from Max. Not that he was worried the other would hurt him, but he didn’t want to take any chances until the young man knew the entirety of just what he had become. Whatever it was, he seemed to be adapting to it fairly quickly. Given his professional history though, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

 

He left the two men in the recovery room, scaled flight after flight until he reached the helipad, and climbed back into the wings.

 

Without Liz and Doris, Adrian didn’t feel he had any reason to still be around. There was no point for him to exist anymore. His wife and daughter had become his entire world; now he had neither of them. The axis on which his world turned had collapsed, and left him in pieces that couldn’t fit back together.

 

Deep down though, Adrian wondered if he’d known subconsciously that they had always been gone. Somehow he was still able to function; he still came back to New York after all. It didn’t completely break him, as he thought it might. No. He’d come back to the others, having finally found the closure that he both dreaded and desperately needed.

 

Otto wasn’t family, just a friend. Still, he was something to hold onto. He was someone to keep going for, and to climb all those flights of stairs for. Adrian didn’t have a care for his own well being anymore. Not with Doris and Liz gone. If he couldn’t live for himself though, he’d live for someone else. Retrieving morphine for a friend was a tiny scrap of a reason to hold onto life for, but it was a reason none the less.

 


	14. Chapter 14

A week had passed since the accident. To everyone’s surprise, especially Otto’s, things had gone from incredibly bad to remarkably better.

 

Now, Adrian perched on the edge of the helipad, watching as Otto in the center of it. The four mechanical arms lay behind him on the floor, completely still for now. Otto held a clipboard and pen in his hands, and a determined look was on his face. Adrian was proud of him. The kid had taken the time to be upset, then pulled himself together and showed his grit. That and a healthy dose of morphine to dull the pain the first few days. Both of those things had helped Otto get out of the hospital bed and drag his new appendages up to the helipad.

 

While the helipad floor was technically Adrian’s turf, Otto didn’t make a terrible roommate. He talked, a lot, and Adrian needed something to distract himself. While the closure he’d gotten from Liz and Doris had been something he’d subconsciously expected, the subtle relief had turned into a deepening, overwhelming depression. Having someone else around to take his mind off of it was a comfort.

 

“Upper right module, test number five, startiiiiing….” Otto turned his head, looking over to the arm that lay on the floor beside him. “Now.”

 

He narrowed his eyes, concentrating as the mechanical arm began to twitch. After a few seconds, twitching turned to sliding, and the arm slithered across the floor. It snaked upwards after a few seconds, rising several inches before falling back down with a loud clang.

 

“Was that an improvement?” Adrian asked, shifting slightly. He’d zoned out during tests one through four.

 

“A huge improvement!” Otto said, a grin on his face as he jotted down notes. “Once the spinal fusion is fully complete and the Chitauri circuits fully integrate with my nervous system, I’ll have absolute control.”

 

“Woah-” Adrian spread his wings, hovering over to Otto. “Pump the breaks, buckaroo. This thing is integrating into your spine? That doesn’t sound... _healthy_.”

 

“The Chitauri were a cybernetically enhanced species. They blended technology with their own organic tissue. I think what’s happening is that the technology is naturally integrating with my biology. It’s just doing its job in a new environment, it’s adapting to my nervous system.”

 

“Jesus...” Adrian muttered, shaking his head. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? How do you know this might not kill you?”

 

“I don’t.” Otto muttered quietly. “I might just drop dead tomorrow or it could slowly be killing me from the inside out. But since I’m still able to function, and to use my brain for something worth while, I’m going to find a way to use these things to my advantage.”

 

Otto was positively hell bent on making the arms function. The biggest problem he seemed to face, as far as Adrian could tell, was just learning how to control four limbs at once. The young man had described it as learning to walk with two pairs of new legs. He’d said he could feel them like he could feel his own arms. They were a part of him, he just couldn’t coordinate them yet.

 

As the day went on, he ran through test after test. Each attempt yielded newer, stronger results. By noon, Otto was able to command an arm to raise up off the ground and raise all the way up past his head. He could only do one at a time, but at the rate he was learning, Adrian knew he’d be using all four at once within the next few days.

 

The old man found himself slipping into his own thoughts, staring off across the empty skyline as he waited. Otto had said he might need Adrian’s help during the testing, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

 

Since the accident, Otto had been paranoid about being alone. It’d shaken him up, to have something blow up in his face when he used to having absolute control. Adrian understood. He’d dealt with his fair share of accidents and seen men injured and die because of tiny oversights or the slightest lapse in judgment. One never really got used to it.

 

“I guess I’m all done.”

 

Otto’s voice broke him out of his daydreaming, and Adrian hovered across the helipad toward him.

 

“Where was I supposed to fit into all of this?” He knew the answer, but wanted to ask anyway, just to see Otto’s reaction.

 

The boy seemed flustered, crossing his arms. “I thought I’d need you for some heavy lifting but apparently that’s not the case. I also figured it would be better if someone with half a brain were here if something went wrong instead of the dullards downstairs.”

 

Adrian chuckled through his helmet. “Dullards? Who’s the old man now?”

 

Otto muttered under his breath and waved him off. “You’re free to go. I’ve done-”

 

Rapid footsteps drew their attention. Both heads turned to see Max rushing out onto the helipad, a huge smile splitting his face from ear to ear. He was back in his old clothes, looking like he belonged at a concert more than a criminal organization.

 

“Guys, guys...guys. Watch this.” He said, gasping for air between words. Whatever he had to show them was worth running up several flights of stairs for.

 

Max swallowed, then stretched out his hand toward Adrian.

 

By instinct, Adrian backed away, moving to hover at the edge of the helipad.

 

“It’s okay! It’s okay dude, just, watch this – stay still. I promise I got this all under control.” Max reassured him.

 

Adrian glanced at Otto through his visor. Although they couldn’t make eye contact, the two shared a look and Otto decided it was time to intervene.

 

“Max, just wait a second and-”

 

Unfortunately Max didn’t pause to listen. Sparks of electricity ran down his arm, and a tiny arc jumped from the tips of his fingers to Adrian’s body.

 

Bracing for an arc explosion, Adrian flinched, but one second passed – then another – and nothing happened. He wasn’t exploding, or on fire, or convulsing from an electric shock. Checking the display in his visor, Adrian could see that the batteries that powered his communications and auxiliary systems were fully charged.

 

“Uh - Did you just charge my batteries?” Adrian asked, perching on the edge of the helipad.

 

“Shyeah! It’s amazing, it’s like-” Max began to talk so quickly he could barely keep up with his own words, “It’s like – I can just feel currents man, It’s like – It’s radical man, I love it! Best electrical accident I’ve ever been in!”

 

“I get the feeling you’ve been in a few.”

 

“Maybe! But – see – I sent that through and I didn’t cause an explosion or an arc flash, and you aren’t even completely wrapped in metal, are you? Man I bet you’d die so fast if you got hit by lightning. You should really be in a Faraday-Cage kind of situation, man, that’s so unsafe to fly around in if there’s lightning out. You’re gonna get Tiger Woods’d.”

 

“Was he like this when you brought him here or is this all new?” Adrian asked, turning to look at Otto.

 

The young man just shrugged, rolling his eyes and tilting his hand back and forth in the air. A little bit of both, apparently.

 

“Have you told Gargan about this?” Adrian asked.

 

Max sat down on the helipad, tiny arcs of electricity running down his legs and connecting to the floor.

 

“Nah. I’m gonna, but, I just want to make sure I can do some stuff before I tell him. Want to make sure just pouring out all this electricity isn’t like, gonna hurt me or something. I don’t feel like it’s hurting me.” Max paused, turning his hand over in front of his face. As he turned his palm, sparks flew off from his skin in a dazzling shower of light. “Feels pretty awesome, really. Tonight I’m going to see if I can power a generator and light up a building. If that works, we’ll have our power back here by this time tomorrow.”

 

“ _If_ it works.” Adrian echoed. “You’re sure that kind of exertion won’t kill you?”

 

“Only one way to find out. They don’t hand out manuals in Lineman school for the old ‘what happens if you get shocked but end up with superpowers instead’ scenario.” Max snorted.

 

“Don’t kill yourself, Max. Even if you can’t power a building, you’re still worth immeasurably more to us alive than dead.” Otto huffed, crossing his arms.

 

Max got up, walking over to Otto and pulling him into a tight, uncomfortable hug. Otto winced, and Adrian could hear the static shocks popping between them.

 

“Aw, he really does care!” Max laughed before releasing him and walking away.

 

Once Max was gone from the helipad, Otto and Adrian shared a look. Even though Otto couldn’t see his face, Adrian knew that he and the young man were on the same page.

 

“If Max’s powers really do have that much potential, Gargan’s going to try and exploit it for everything he can.” Adrian began, “Assuming that Max doesn’t just electrocute him within two seconds of feeling threatened.”

 

“You’ve got a point there.” Otto said quietly, “...What would you do, if Gargan ended up dead? Would you get out of here?”

 

Adrian sighed, removing his helmet and setting it down on the helipad. He gave a weak, indifferent shrug.

 

“I’d be able to go wherever I wanted, I guess.” He muttered, “Problem is, I don’t really want to do anything...or go anywhere. Seems pointless.”

 

Otto frowned at him, moving a little closer to Adrian and speaking quieter. As if there were anyone else out here to listen.

 

“Are you alright?” He asked.

 

Adrian glanced at him. The kid cared, and he knew he should’ve appreciated it. Adrian knew he should feel grateful that even one person was left on this planet to give a damn about him. He also knew that Otto was wasting his time and energy.

 

“M’fine.” He grumbled.

 

Adrian was remarkably _not fine_.

 

“I don’t want to leave this place. This is like our community now...I mean this is all we got. I know you hate Gargan but he’s made all of this work.” Otto said meekly. Adrian could tell that he was afraid of making him angry. Probably some unfortunate growing pains had taught him to be frightened of disappointing others.

 

Reigning himself in, Adrian just gave him a sideways glance. “ _We’ve_ made all of this work. He’s a hell of a planner but it’s still me and Rhino busting our asses whenever somebody gets brave and tries to move in on our turf.”

 

“Whatever, that hasn’t happened in like, a month. Stop trying to sound cool. I mean, you’re pretty cool for an old guy, but c’mon...”

 

“Excuse you kiddo, I’m the coolest old guy I know.”

 

Otto grinned at him, visibly relaxing. Adrian was grateful for it – he didn’t like seeing the kid scared.

 

“How’s the wing rig feel? I was thinking of some new upgrades.” Otto began, falling back into an easy rapport now that the subject was back on something he was an expert in.

 

Adrian scoffed, “C’mon, you’ve already upgraded it three times. I mean – what more could it need?”

 

“Did you seriously just ask me that?”

 

“Doesn’t mean you gotta answer it. You can have too much of a good thing, y’know? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

 

Otto rolled his eyes at Adrian, beginning to speak when a sudden flash of light interrupted him.

 

Adrian flinched, turning and pulling his helmet back on. He took to the skies, switching through the various view-modes of his visor. No readings appeared to change, from temperature to traces of radiation or chemical reactions – his helmet just showed regular readings, as if nothing had even happened.

 

“...We both saw that right?” Otto shouted down from the helipad.

 

Adrian glanced down at him, hovering ten feet above the landing. He nodded, then paused and reached up, detaching the cables from the back of his helmet and pulling it off. Squinting briefly in the sunlight, he cast his gaze over the skyline of the city. Turning his gaze down toward the city to search for a possible source, another flash brought his attention back to the sky.

 

The second flash now coalesced into a physical shape. It was green – a torrential, rippling wave of shimmering light that tore through the horizon. It was hurtling toward them, crackling with electricity. Adrian could already hear it, and it was spreading from one end of the sky to the other. All he could do was stare at it, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. A meteor strike? A bomb? A chemical weapon? Those were all the guesses he could come up with, yet none of them seemed to fit. It was even a far cry from the portal that had opened up above the city years prior.

 

As it grew closer, Adrian heard Otto shout his name. Brought out of his stupor, Adrian dropped down to the helipad, grabbing Otto under the arms and flying them both to cover. Hiding in the corner of an interior wall, Adrian brought his wings down around the younger man, cocooning them both beneath the massive steel feathers.

 

The sound grew louder, turning from a distant, dull roar to a deafening wave, as if the sky itself were falling down on their heads.

 

“What’s happening!?” Otto shouted, covering his ears. He was pressed up against Adrian, the two squeezed together in the small space allowed by the wings.

 

Adrian didn’t answer – he couldn’t answer. He was just as confused and terrified. He couldn’t help it. Newfound nihilism aside, a deep, primal part of him would always want to live. That part of him was screaming at him to abandon Otto and fly as fast as he could, that maybe he could outrun it – but he fought the urge back. He wouldn’t die like a coward to whatever this was. Magic or Alien or something far greater, something far beyond his mortal understanding.

 

The wave came over them in one quick sweep. Its roiling thunder and cataclysmic sound was all at once there, then gone. Adrian waited for pain, for choking or terrible heat to burn them both alive, but nothing changed.

 

It took a few seconds for them both to realize that the wave had passed over them and not only were they alive, they were completely unharmed.

 

Hesitantly, Adrian unwrapped his wings from around them both and rose from the ground. Otto stood up beside him, the two checking themselves over for injury. They shared a look of utter confusion, completely at a loss for what had just occurred. Neither could even grasp at a suggestion of what the wave could’ve possibly been.

 

“...What the hell just happened...” Otto whispered, staring at Adrian.

 

The older man shook his head, unable to come up with any kind of answer for Otto.

 

A new sound drew their attention now, tearing them away from their confusion. People were shouting from the floor beneath them, but Adrian couldn’t make out what they were saying. Hovering back out onto the helipad, Adrian rose up to get a better look at the city.

 

In the distance, he could see the wave retreating, continuing on its path at tremendous speed. Now that they were in its wake, all was quiet and calm. Adrian couldn’t hear a single hint of the deafening cacophony from just minutes before. Turning his eyes down to the streets below, Adrian saw to his abrupt surprise...people.

 

Lots of people.

 

“...Stay here.” He called back to Otto, spreading his wings and descending along the side of the skyscraper. The wind struck his eyes and made them tear up, but he ignored the pain and cold air on his face as he slowed to hover above the street.

 

People stood there in confusion, all of them looking no worse for wear – as if they’d just been on their way to work or walking the streets. None of them looked like the ragged, starving survivors of the Second Incident that Adrian had come to be familiar with. None of them were gang members, or military, or Gargan’s men. They were just people.

 

As the men and women looked around at each other in utter confusion, awful sounds of distress at the terrible state of the city began to echo through the streets. In the middle of it all, Adrian heard a shout of fear. Turning to look down, he saw a man pointing up at him before whipping around and bolting off.

 

It clicked in Adrian’s mind then, that something had happened. The people that had turned to dust, that had vanished into piles of gray ash – the wave had brought them back. Whatever it was had reversed the cataclysm and brought back the lives torn away from the world. His mind immediately went to Doris and Liz – they’d both been victims of the Incident – if the wave was bringing back everyone, then his baby girl and his wife…

 

Adrian was so caught up in stinging, ecstatic tears of joy that he didn’t notice the cop a few feet away, drawing his gun and aiming. A bullet struck his chest and tore him back into reality, but Otto’s thin body armor absorbed the impact. Regardless, it still hurt. Badly.

 

Snarling, Adrian looked down at the cop, flying toward him. The talons on his feet spread open, and the ones at the tips of his fingers gleamed in the sunlight as he drew his sidearm.

 

“You just got back!” Adrian shouted down at the cop, “Do you really want to spoil this by making me kill you?”

 

The cop kept his gun raised at Adrian for a few more seconds before slowly lowering it. Adrian had to give the guy some credit, he could tell the cop was seething at the chance being taken from him. Hell, the guy just got brought back to life and he was already firing on all cylinders. Adrian was jealous of that kind of mad energy.

 

“Make yourself useful and help some people out.” Adrian hissed, tilting the rotors in his wings just slightly so that the backwash struck the officer. The man coughed, the strong gust kicking up dust into his face. He brought his hands up to wipe his eyes clear of the tiny bits of debris, but by the time his vision was cleared up, Adrian was gone.

 


End file.
